


First Impressions, Later Realisations & Remembering What's Important

by Baileys



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e09 Bad Judgment, Episode: s01e12 Bottlenecked, Episode: s01e14 Out of the Box, Episode: s02e08 Company Man, Episode: s02e14 Payback, Episode: s03e11 Checkmate, Episode: s03e14 Pulling Strings, Episode: s04e01 Wanted, Episode: s04e10 Vested Interest, Episode: s05e10 Live Feed, Episode: s05e11 Shot Through the Heart, Episode: s06e01 Borrowed Time, Episode: s3e02 Where There's a Will, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, One Shot Collection, Points of View, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baileys/pseuds/Baileys
Summary: A collection of stand alone one-shots chronicling the White Collar crews' first impressions of the ever lovable Neal & Peter.  And now added... the moments when Peter & Neal buy a clue. Extra addage! - Episode tags & missing scene which demonstrate more of that fabulous bromance.





	1. Reece hughes

**Author's Note:**

> New chapters will be posted as in when I can be bothered, aka when I write them :)

 

"You want me to  _what_?" Hughes lands hard on the plush seat of his chair, wheels clicking frantically as they glide across the hard floor.

"It can be a temporary thing" Peter steps forward quickly, hands up as if he expects to be attacked any minute. "And if he helps us catch the Dutchman-"

The confidence fades with his words and that's when Reece jumps in, putting an end to this insanity. "And if he does, then what?" He snaps. "You'll keep him on a leash in your yard until the next Caffrey imitation comes along?"

"Locking him up for another four years won't benefit anyone." Peter has the grace to look away. "Neal could be a valuably asset if he applies himself."

Hughes stares at his best lead agent standing ridged in front of his desk, wondering if he was hearing right. "Neal Caffrey is a criminal, he's been sentenced to another four years because the kid hasn't learnt a damn thing. He couldn't even wait three months to commit his first post-prison crime for god's sake!"

Peter shifts nervously and steps closer, gripping the back of the empty visitor's chair. "To be fair, that was because of a girl and-"

"I don't give a damn." Reece cuts the air with his palm, reining in his annoyance and letting it out in a hollow laugh. "It just proves my point. Caffrey's impulsive. Reckless. Clearly has no sense of right or wrong-"

"Now that's not true." Peter jumps to defend the kid, "Neal may be many things, but he's never hurt anyone."

"The people he's robbed would beg to differ." Peter opens his mouth again, but this time Hughes doesn't even let him take a breath. "I don't care how you spin it. Stealing is stealing, even if those he stole from could afford it."

"We're close Reece, real close. Catching the Dutchman… it would be a big win for us."

Reece deflates. This conversation isn't going the way he wants, that much is clear, though quite what he was expecting he doesn't know anymore. Peter's obsession with Neal Caffrey worried him seven years ago and was worrying him again now.

"As big as catching Caffrey?" The raised eyebrow suggests it's a comparison he doesn't like.

Peter lets his silence speak for him, leaving Reece no choice but to really consider the request. Catching Neal had been a huge win, for the bureau and for Burke. The Dutchman has been on their radar longer than Caffrey's been inside. He's smart, meticulous, but also a murderer. Something Neal Caffrey never was.

Hughes sighs, eyeing Peter over the C.I contract which needed his signature. "Cut the crap Peter. What is this really about?"

There's an eternity between the demand and Burke's response. Almost like he's looking for the exact words which aren't a lie, but won't get him into trouble either.

"I like the kid."

And there it is, as if there's nothing more to it. No hard sell on Neal's unique perspective, or how he clearly has access to intel they don't, even on the inside. Hughes always suspected Peter had felt more than a little bad for the tough sentence, despite Caffrey deserving every damn minute.

"Well kid is right." Reece snorts, watching Burke fidget, looking unusually flustered thanks to his confession. "You know, if you do this he's not out for good behaviour. It won't be like the normal C.I relationship where they carry on doing what they do and we look the other way so long as it pays to do so. Caffrey's a ward of the state. That means he'll be your ward for four years. Your responsibility to fix what he breaks."

There's a pause, a healthy one which provides Reece a modicum of comfort considering what Peter's letting them all in for.

"I can handle that."

"I hope you can." Reece takes pen to paper. "You got your wish. Welcome to fatherhood Agent Burke." He adds with an upturned smiled, handing over the signed contract and laughing gracelessly at Peter's suddenly pale face.

"You really think you can turn Caffrey around?" He asks after a sobering pause.

Taking possession of the signed agreement that makes Neal Caffrey his, Peter relaxes a fraction. "I do sir. He's good. There's plenty of law abiding things he can do with his talents." Hughes detects a note of melancholy to his next words. "I think he just needs someone to show him there's a better way."

"Well he couldn't ask for a better teacher." Reece smiles softly. "Good luck."

"Thank you, sir."

...

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Hughes turns from the window in his office. Caffrey's fidgeting by the door like a naughty school boy, looking out of place and worryingly skittish.

"Sit down." Reece demonstrates by taking his own seat, adding when Neal doesn't move; "Relax Caffrey, I don't bite."

"Of course."

The wide grin being thrown at him is exactly how Peter described. Reece has to admit, with the insecurity coming off this kid in waves, it's no wonder Peter fell for him so hard. Only thing Reece can't work out, is this false confidence act part of a con to have them lower their guard, or is it evidence of the damage done after four years in prison?

"Do you know why you're here?" he asks once Caffrey finally settles.

"No, the Agents who kindly escorted me here didn't tell me."

The under lying sarcasm isn't missed and Reece lets Caffrey know with an unimpressed frown.

"You're here because one of my Agents has seen fit to take responsibility for you." Hughes pauses, providing plenty of opportunity for a smart-aleck remark, but wisely Caffrey keeps his mouth shut. "That means by default I also have a share in that responsibility. I want to make sure you understand what that means before Agent Burke returns from the last vacation he'll have in four years."

Neal blinks. Revealing he hadn't quite thought about the restrictions that would be placed on Burke during their deal.

"I do sir, really." Caffrey nods, lips drawn in a serious line, smile nothing but a ghost. "Peter's taking a chance on me I know."

_Peter._ Hughes recalls Burke calling Caffrey 'Neal' when they talked in his office. When did these two get so well acquainted it's already first name basis?

"I'll be watching you Caffrey." Hughes put his best stern face on. "You're going to be around this office a lot and you're going to be on your best behaviour because its  _Peter's_  neck on the line. Is that understood?"

The grin that had started to creep back on his face drops the second he mentions the risk to Burke, which gives Reece hope the kid really does understand what a leap of faith they're taking on him.

"Yes sir, I promise I don't want to hurt anyone."

Reece is going to reserve judgement on that. Kid may not want to, doesn't mean he won't. He has children, hell he has nearly grown grandchildren. And what he's learnt is that your kids may appreciate you, may love you, but that doesn't stop them hurting you.

"Go see Agent Jones. He can run through all the paperwork with you so when Agent Burke gets back you'll be ready to prove that."

The grin is back, but looking more relieved than anything else, even settling into something – dare he think it - more genuine. Caffrey rises, restraining himself only just enough to walk, not run out the door. Reece watches him jog down the stairs, making a b-line for Jones' desk and allows his own smile to grace his aging face. Whatever happens going forward, Reece has a feeling it's going to be an interesting ride.


	2. Elizabeth Burke

“El?” Peter walks through his front door at a sloths pace, his meeting with Hughes still replaying in his mind.

“You’re home on time.” She greets him from the kitchen, smiling brightly while going through her usual motions of preparing dinner.  “Typical, because Cathy called, she and Henry are having trouble again, I said I’d go over later if he went out to the bar, but I don’t know if I should get involved, it’s a really complicated situation and now she’s met this guy at her yoga class which is completely…”

“I’m listening.”  Peter speaks into the silence when she pauses.

“I know.” Elizabeth eyes him critically over the open fridge door, hands wrapped around a cold bottle of Pinot.  “What’s wrong?”

Peter gives her a hurt look.

“You know what I mean.”  She makes her way round the serving hatch to join him in the dining room.  “I start talking about my friend’s problems, you normally grab a beer and nod in the right places, you don’t _listen_.”

“You caught me.” Peter forces a grin, distracting himself with laying the table so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye.  

Elizabeth steps closer, studies his serious expression. “He’s yours?”

“He’s mine.” The grin grows taut, to the point it may snap and break.

“Wow, Reece signed off.” She pulls back, returning the wine to the fridge and swapping for two beers.  “How do you feel?”

“Oddly nervous.”  His laugh is shaky, adding weigh to the confession.

She uncaps the beers and hands him one. 

“You’ll do fine.”  El initiates the toast, standing on her tip toes to give him a peck on the cheek.  “You’ve been running your own team for years.”

“Yeah, but this is different.” Peter drops into the nearest seat, as if the realisation that he’ll be solely responsible for another human being was just hitting him.  “Neal’s going to be my responsibility.  He’s got skills, but he’s not an agent.  I’m going to have to keep him safe and in line or its both our asses.”

“Hmm, yeah I guess that is different.  How old is he now?”

“Assuming he told us the truth, which I doubt,” he chuckles, “twenty-nine.”

“He’s young,” El chews her bottom lip, “but I’m sure you’ll find a way Agent Burke, I have complete faith in you.” She leans in again and kisses him.

“Why thank you Mrs Burke.”

….

“Can I help you?”  Elizabeth addresses the unknown young man on her doorstep, unknown until he turns around.  “Neal?”

His face says it all.  Elizabeth feels quite proud that in her first meeting of the competition as she always called him, she’s managed to knock a professional con-man off his game.

“Peter’s spoken about me?” He smiles brightly, confidence quickly reinstalled.

“You were quite a big part of our lives for a while there.”  She sees the flicker of sadness in his eyes at her use of past tense and feeling guilty, even though she really doesn’t know him, seeks to fix it.  “You want to come in?”

El isn’t sure what’s come over her, inviting a criminal into their home, but something about being able to talk to the young man in person, instead of listening to Peter’s interactions second hand, thrilled her more than she realised now the opportunity presented itself.

“Coffee?”

The charming smile he’s worn since she opened the door falters, a hazy quality dusting over his blue eyes, turning the bright blue a dull grey.  “I probably shouldn’t.” 

Cheeks showing a hint of pink Neal starts to back away.

“Nonsense,” El steps out and grabs his arm, “Peter’s upstairs getting ready for work, he’ll be down in a minute.”

Before she can think about what exactly it is she’s doing, El pulls Neal through the door and into the house. 


	3. Clinton Jones

 

“Agent Hughes says you have paperwork for me?”

Jones looks up from his computer into the smiling face of Neal Caffrey.  Even with him standing on the other side of the desk, he still doesn't quite believe it.

“Liability forms.” Jones stands and nudges past, forcing Caffrey to follow, which he does a little more eagerly than he'd expect. “You’ll sit here.”

Dropping the pile three inches thick on the empty desk by the doors Jones gives the empty office overlooking the floor a pointed look and walks away, concealing a smile.

About an hour later Caffrey’s back and hovering.  “You done?” Jones eyes him suspiciously, “because I got plenty of my own work to do.”

There's a blush creeping up Caffrey’s cheeks, something if he hadn’t witnessed himself Jones would never have believed it.

“I don't know what to write for this one.” Caffrey thrusts the medical emergency contact form in his face.

Jones takes it, studies it, looks over the edge at Caffrey in quiet contemplation.  “There's no one you can think of?”

He grins, “Oh, I can think of plenty.” 

 _Lie_ Jones’ internal lie detector buzzes off the chart.

“Just, you know, no one who would want their name on an FBI database.” He shrugs and the smile drops, gaze sinking to the floor.

Jones can presume at least that much is true.  Even his land lady had an interesting and unorthodox past, who knew what else they’d dig up while Caffrey was working under their noses.

“Well try and think of someone you can trust,” he encourages.  “Chances are we'll never need to contact them, but they need to be real in case we do, otherwise it’s on you. Understand?”

It was his way of saying; put anyone down but lie and reap the consequences.  Caffrey walks away in serious thought and Jones thinks no more of it, not until the form floats back to his desk at the end of the day. 

Picking it up he’s fully expecting to see one of Caffrey’s many alias’ or some sort of pseudonym, but Jones’ eyes widen at the name and details of not one, but the two people Caffrey’s listed as his next of Kin.  He wonders how in hell Neal found out Peter's wife's cell number.

……..

“Agent Burke, thought you weren’t coming in until Monday.”  Jones says, but is actually unsurprised to discover Peter rifling through his stacked mail at gone six on a Friday.  “How was Belize?”

“It was fantastic,” Peter stops shuffling paper in his draw and looks up, “The villa was on this hillside, the view was amazing and you could barely see any of the bullet holes-”

“Burke,” Hughes materialised at his office door, “you best be gone in the next five minutes or I’m having you physically removed from the building.”

His voice drifted as he walked down the stairs taking out some the sting, but Peter got the message.  He swiftly gathered his things, including all his mail and stood to go.

“Oh,” Jones called, stopping him before he exited.  “Caffrey.”

It was only one word, but it caused a fascinating stream of emotions to cross Burke’s face before he settles on something Jones would come to know as his ‘damnit Neal’ face.

“What’d he do?”

“Oh, he didn’t do anything,” Jones shoves his hands in his pockets, allowing a small grin at the assumption.  “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“Well he may have managed to get his hands an agent’s personal information,”

“That doesn’t surprise me, and it’s not the getting it that we should worry about, it’s what he does with it.”

“That’s kind of why I wanted to warn you.”  Jones waits for Peter to ask, but when he doesn’t figures, what the hell, and launches straight in.  “Caffrey has managed to get hold of your personal cell number and home address.”

“Ah, he had those before going to prison, I wouldn’t worry.”

“He also has your wife’s contact details, both work and personal cell.”

“My wife’s?” Peter repeats, still processing.  “What…” he drifts, refocuses on the right question to ask.  “How’d you find out he has El’s cell number?”

Jones looks momentarily thrown, Burke’s calm reaction not being what he expected at all.  “Caffrey put you down as his medical proxy, you and Elizabeth are listed as his ‘to contact in case of emergency’ people.  I put a copy in your tray.” He points to the stack of papers under Peter’s arm, which he is obviously taking home to sort through over the weekend.

“Huh.”

“Burke!”

Peter jumps at Hughes shout, the man walking back to his own office next door.

“Going sir.”  Peter yells back, fake frowning at Jones who is trying not to laugh. 

“So,” Jones follows him out, stops by the banister as Peter walks down the stairs, balancing his laptop, files and briefcase.  “What do you want me to do about Caffrey?”

Peter looks at him blankly for a second before catching his meaning.  “It’s fine Jones, don’t worry.  I’m already responsible for his behaviour, might as well be responsible for his health too.  What’s one more major Caffrey decision to add to the pile?”  He gave a laugh, which seemed to be for something only he found funny.  “See you Monday!”

Jones watches Peter bustle through the doors and quickly jump into a waiting elevator.  Even after four years, the man could still surprise him.


	4. June Ellington

 

“You’re good with him.”

He was waiting for Neal. Again. June sneaked up on him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Neal.” She laughs, like she’d planned to make him jump.  “You’re good with him.  He needs someone who has patience.”

Peter gazes up the large stairs case, but still no Neal in sight.  “He certainly tries mine.” 

“I know you like him as much as I do.”

“There's nothing gets passed you is there?”

“I’ve been around far too long for that I'm afraid.”

Peter settles, looking thoughtful.  “Can I ask you something?” He waits for her nod. “Is he doing okay?”

June grins broadly.

“What?”

“I knew what you were going to ask.” She answers not missing a beat.  “And to answer your question, you are doing a very good job at keeping him safe.  He trusts you.”

“Trusts me.” Peter muses that over.

“And looks up to you Agent Burke.”

“Peter, please,” is all he can say to that, more than a little thrown by the compliment. 

“Peter,” June agrees.  “Neal admires you.  From what he tells me you've been a big part of his life a very long time.  Made quite the impact.”

“What has he told you?”

June smiles cunningly.

“Just don't abuse the power you have over him.”

“I wouldn't.”

“I not just talking about his work for the FBI.”

“Peter...” Neal appears on the stairs, eagerly pulling Peter's attention.  When he looks back to address June she’s already gone. “Peter? You okay?”

Peter blinks, looks up the bright youthful face before him.  “Yeah kiddo, come on.” And places his hand to the small of Neal’s back, guiding him out. “we’ve got jewel thieves to catch.”

“I like jewels.”

Peter follows and sighs.  “I know you do.”

“Especially ruby’s they...”

June listens to their voices fade, watching with a satisfied smile as the two of them walk out the house.


	5. Mozzie

 

“Gin’s good!”

Mozzie wasn't against the idea of sitting with the fed.  Not this fed anyway.  In some ways he feels Peter Burke has been as much a part of his life, as he has Neal’s, being as wherever Neal went Mozzie was usually not far behind.  Sitting together, having a drink and jointly ribbing Neal over his Kate obsession was an enlightening experience.  He hates the idea he actually agrees with a Fed, but Mozzie consoles that in this instance there isn’t anyone who wouldn’t think Kate was playing the kid.  Therefore, the law of averages was in his favour.

“What?”

Neal stares at him because Mozzie is staring at Neal.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about the two of you.”

“The two of who?”

“You and your new keeper.”

“Peter?” Neal frowns.  “Why?”

“Come on.” Mozzie lowers his voice, not wanting it to travel to the bathroom where said Fed had disappeared.  “You've been trying to get his attention for half a decade and look, you've finally managed to trap him into being with you for four years.”  He quickly hides his smirk by taking a long sip of his drink.

“It's not like that.”  Neal immediately refutes, but it’s not his best effort and Mozzie sees right through it without even trying.  “I need to find Kate.  This is the best way.”  Neal shrugs under his glare, muttering “has nothing to do with Peter.”

Mozzie waits a beat, trying to judge if Neal is playing him or does in fact believe his own lie.  After nearly a full minute of averted gazes and no eye contact he decides to break the silence as the infamous Special Agent Peter Burke re-enters the room.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

....

Mozzie steps into the street from the alley, blocking the agents path.

“Suit.”

“Havisham.” 

Peter greets him with healthy level of suspicion, Mozzie respects that.

“We need to talk about Neal.”

“Is he alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Then what?”

“I want to know what your intentions are?”

“My intentions?” Burke laughs.  “We getting married?”

“You can laugh, but you know what I mean.”  Mozzie retains all seriousness.

Burke’s laugh dies off, a serious line drawing across his face.

“You’re worried about him.”

He is.  Always will be.  Neal has been both the best and worst thing to happen to his life.  On one hand it’s great to have a partner almost as smart as he is.  The down side is watching the stupid kid get knocked down each and every time he lets a woman lead him on a path of self-destruction, or worse, let’s his own childish impulses get him into a world of trouble Mozzie then has to perform miracles to get him out of.

“Neal’s a walking contradiction, and appearances can be misleading.”  He puts his thoughts into words, decidedly torn about this approach but feeling it necessary all the same.  “ _Being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure_.”

“That supposed to mean something?”

“It means, suit, that despite what you and your suit army may think, Neal wears his heart on his sleeve.”  Mozzie reins in his ire.  “Kate is… well.”

“Yeah.”  Peter nods.

Mozzie nods back, appreciating the understanding.  “Neal’s put his trust in you.  He doesn’t do that lightly and not just for anyone.”  Feeling the emotion rising up he quickly pushes it back down.  “Don’t abuse that.”

Peter stares at him in silence, for so long Mozzie starts to panic, thinking it’s a delay tactic to confuse him and the wingtips are going to burst out of the shadows and hand cuff him any minute.

“You’re the second person to give me this warning.” He says cryptically.

“Well Bob Marley did transcend the counter culture.” 

Peter shakes his head, a confused frown fliting across his face before the serious line is back.

“I’ll look after him.”

Mozzie looks him over, scanning the agent’s face and watching his movements for any sign of deception.  “You better.”  He delivers upon finding none.

They fall into silence once again, each sizing up the other and coming to a conclusion neither would probably agree upon.  Feeling his point has been made and satisfied with the status quo, Mozzie walks off, leaving Peter with what he feels is plenty to contemplate.


	6. Lauren Cruz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a weird one this. I couldn't think of much for Lauren, so this idea came from an interview the actress did very early on. It also follows the timeline for Neal referenced in S2 Forging Bonds and S4 wanted.

 

“How old are you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

Agent Cruz, lips pressed, fire burning behind her eyes, breaks from her concentrated glare on Neal and turns to her boss.

“Agent Burke, how old is Caffrey?”

“Physically or mentally?” Peter shoots back without looking up from his report signing.

He feels the burning glare being aimed his way, but honestly, if there’s one expression Neal can’t pull off, it’s menacing.  He’s about as threatening as a toddler put in time out.

“No really, how old?” She presses.

Peter does look up then. “Why?”

“Yeah why?” Neal smiles easily, or at least it looks that way to anyone not looking too hard.  Peter knows better.

“Because it's important.” Lauren shrugs.

“For what?” Neal rises to the challenge.

Lauren doesn't stumble. “Insurance.” She blurts, picking the excuse out of thin air with unmistakable airiness.

Neal shifts uncomfortably, and Peter drops his pen, stopping what he's doing to watch the scene across his desk play out.

“My passport confirms my details, it’s still in evidence, go take a look.” There's a cautious edge to Neal’s tone Peter can't say he's heard before.

“You don't have any I.D that isn't fake.”

“The prison system didn't seem to have a problem accepting it.”

He punctuates with a wide, bright toothy smile, aimed not at Cruz, but at him.  The kind of smile that on anyone else Peter would swear screamed ‘help me’.

Lauren ignores all of it and ploughs on with her impromptu interrogation “We don't even know if Neal’s your real name.”

“It's as real as yours. What makes you think it isn't?” The smile is tense now.

“Neal Caffrey didn't exist before he was eighteen.  It’s an alias.” She grins broadly, and somewhat smugly.  Sure in herself and her conclusion.

“Are you using alias as a noun or verb?”  Neal is unfazed, grinning even, relishing in the fact she gave up her thoughts in one fell swoop.

“It doesn't matter.”  She dismisses, clearly realising her mistake.

“Actually, it does because one way you're implying-”

“Enough.” Peter had heard enough. “Agent Cruz can I have a minute with Neal please.” Peter glares at her when she remains sitting and watching Neal expectantly. “Alone?”

“ _Oh_ ,” She buys a clue, finally, and smile still in place leaves with a swagger to her step. “I’ll go get a head start on the Mortensen case.”

When the door finally closes behind her Neal turns to Peter with a look of relief. 

“What was _that_ all about?”  Peter asks.

“I've no idea.” Neal looks away, suddenly finding the pen tidy utterly fascinating.

“Neal.” He growls, gaze fixed and unwavering.

“What?” Neal smiles, the picture of innocence.

“You know what.”  Peter shoots back, slumping in his seat to force eye contact with the squirming, hang wringing young man sitting opposite.

“No, I don't.” He shrugs, focus still on the pen tidy, now taking out and putting back pens according to colour.

“Neal-”

“I swear.” He raises both hands, rocking back on his chair.

Neal’s looking anywhere but at him, a sure sign he’s hiding something, and doing a very bad job of it.  So, either this is serious enough to have the kid off his game or Neal wants him to know, but instead saying ‘hey Peter I need your help’, he’s trying to con him into helping.

“If you had to guess.” Peter removes the pens and tidy from the easily distracted hands.

Neal lets out a long-suffering sigh, chair legs re-connecting with the floor with a thud.  He’s busted and knows it.  “She… may have… asked me out.” 

“And?” Peter tries to school his expression of surprise. 

“And I may have said she's too old for me.”  He says haltingly, with forced airiness.

Peter puts his head in his hands. “Why would you say that?” He doesn't wait for an answer. “Couldn't you have gave the work excuse?  It works for women against guys all the time!”

“Talking from experience?”  Neal doesn’t bother schooling his own surprise at that advise coming from Peter.

“No.” He huffs. “You need to fix this before she starts digging.” 

“You couldn't find anything about me before eighteen and you're you.”  Neal shrugs, seeming more relaxed now the truth is out.

“Okay, but do you really want the attention this is going to draw?” Peter gives Neal his best stern father knows best face, “do you really want people asking themselves those questions?” _Do you Neal? Do you?_

“No, I guess not.” Neal rumbles, looking defeated again.  Peter remains silent and waits, sees the tension in Neal’s brow increase slightly. “Wait, why are _you_ so worried about people asking questions?”

Peter immediately turns his attention back to his reports, grabbing one of the previously confiscated pens.

“Peter?” Neal sits up straighter in his chair, arms folding tight across his chest, a hint of desperation in his tone.

“ _Huh_?”

“Don't _huh_ me.” Neal springs forward, butt slipping to the edge of his seat.  “Why does it matter to you if anyone knows how old I am?”

“It doesn't.”  Peter looks up casually, shrugs.

“Yeah, it does.” Neal’s narrowed eyes go suddenly wide. “You know, don't you?” The horror on his face would be comical if not for the real fear Peter can see hiding poorly in the too bright, blue eyes. “ _How_?”

“Just put all the pieces together.” Peter sighs, acknowledging Neal’s not the only one to get caught up in the thrill of the game without considering the end impact.

“No, there’s no way.”  Neal starts to stand, shaking his head.

“Neal, it’s not a big deal,”

“Not a big deal?”  He squeaks, “Peter!”

“Neal, calm down.”

“How could you not tell me?” 

“How could I not tell _you_?!” He can barely believe the nerve of this kid.  “You commit a slew of high profile crimes _as a teenager_ and you’re annoyed _I_ didn’t tell _you_?”

Neal freaks out, slipping back into his seat and shushing him manically. 

“I never understood why you didn’t come clean when we caught you.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It might have.”  Neal gives him a doubtful glare.  “Okay it probably wouldn’t, you were still an adult at the end of the day.  Barely.”

“I knew I’d have a hard enough time going to prison, I didn’t need to be jailbait in the literal sense.”

An exaggeration, but yeah Peter could see his point, maintaining the idea he was older probably made him less of a desirable target given the circumstances. 

“Look, Neal.”  He starts again.  “Regardless of age, you’re not a teenager anymore, and I get why you might not want others to know, but…”

“They’ll treat me like a stupid kid Peter.”

“Well you are a stupid kid.”  There’s that toddler glare again, all wide eyed innocent outrage.  “Okay, okay.  You’re not stupid.” He grins.  “Hey, I treat you like a kid all the time, you never complain.”

Neal slumps back in his seat. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re old.”

It’s Peter’s turn to glare.  “I’m older than you, sure.”  He forces a neutral tone, because he knows that’s not the only reason.  He knows deep down Neal responds well to the boundaries he puts in place, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Can we drop this?”

“Hey, wasn’t I the one trying to tell you that to start with?” 

Neal deflates, seems to accept that this thing has gone full circle and in a rare show of contrition, gives up.  “So, what do we do about Lauren?”

Peter thinks for a second, takes in the utter helplessness of the young man slumped before him and decides on this occasion to cut him some slack, “we’ll do nothing.  I’ll handle it.  Trust me.”

The smile he gets in response is enough to break his wannabe disciplinarian resolve completely.  Not unlike the little kid glare, Neal has the ability to melt even the sternest of hearts.  It’s damn hard not to want to fix things for him.   

It’s then it hits him. 

He’s going to be on the receiving end of those bright wide eyes and childish outrage for the next four years.  He’s so screwed.


	7. June Ellington part 2

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Peter!” June visibly jumps, “you scared me.”

Guilt flares up inside his chest.  He’d intended to repay the favour from the previous day, but in his zealous plotting didn’t factor in that sneaking up on a senior might not be the best idea.

“Shoot, June I-” he stops abruptly at her sly smile, the one that reminds him so much of Neal it’s disturbing.  “Remind me never to cross you.”

“Noted.”  She agrees and shows him into the sitting room. “Now, what question didn’t I answer?”

“The other morning when I came to pick up Neal,” he takes the seat across from her.  “I asked you how he was doing,” Peter pauses, gaging her reaction, everything from her intense eye contact to the way she holds her hands over her lap, “you didn’t really answer.”

“I believe I told you what you needed to hear.”  She flashes that sly smile again. 

“I need to know,” Peter trips over his tongue so often with this woman.  “I need to make sure he’s…”

June doesn’t wait for him to find the right words.  “When Bryon got out it was hard on him for a while.  Being reliant on others for all your needs is something we should only experience as children, the change from dependant to independent is supposed to be gradual.”

“Prison is enforced dependency,” Peter nods.  “He’s been looked after for four years, providing for himself again is scary, even for someone like Neal. I’m trying not to over compensate but...”

“He makes it hard not to?”

“You see my dilemma.”  Peter relaxes slightly, glad he’s not the only one who’s noticed Neal’s complete lack of self-preservation recently.  

“I get the sense Neal was a child who experienced a high level of independence very early on.”  June eyes him curiously.  “I’d have thought given your history…?”

She’s digging, Peter can tell. 

“I don’t know anything about his childhood.” He can see she’s disappointed.  “As far as I know Neal Caffrey didn’t exist before he was 18.”

“Well regardless of where he came from that boy is as smart and wilful as they come.” She laughs and Peter joins her.  “But there’s a deep insecurity about him, it’s been there a long, long time and I don’t think the F.B.I, or prison had any part in putting it there.” 

Peter pieces together what she’s saying and like a light bulb sparking to life the answer hits him.

“That’s why you told me not to abuse my power.”

June rewards him with another smile, this one warm and genuine. “Look after him _Peter_ ,” she takes his hand in hers, “and I know he’ll be just fine.”


	8. Diana Berrigan

 

 

“You seen these two?”

Jones appears beside Diana at the coffee machine, eyes flicking in the direction she’s staring as he pours.  “You’ll get used to it.”

“Really?” She turns on him.  “I mean, really?”

“You don't have to sound so excited.”

“Oh, come on.” She hits him.  “I’ve been gone less than six months and this happens?”

“This,” Jones points up to Agent Burke’s office, where Neal is now sitting so close to Burke light can’t filter between them, “was always there.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She follows as he walks away.

“You weren’t here the three years Agent Burke was chasing Caffrey.” He reminds her.

“I was there for the capture.” She smiles smugly.

“Yeah, but point is Burke put more than just FBI time into catching him.  I think he really wanted to help the kid.”

“Kid?”

Jones sits down at his desk, making a face she doesn’t know how to interpret.  “Neal was only twenty-four when he went to jail.  I don't know what you were doing at twenty-four, but trust me, my mom was still doing my laundry.”

“I guess.” Diana concedes, applying the behavioural analysis theory of incarceration's impact on emotional age.  “That doesn't explain this.” She points up to Neal and Peter, still sitting on the same side of the desk smiling over something like best friends.

“Sure, it does.” Jones grins.  “Burke feels responsible for Caffrey.  Which by extension we all are by the way.”

Diana rolls her eyes, catching on.  “You mean Peter gets all big bad Pappa bear if Neal gets so much of a scratch?”

“Oh, like you wouldn't believe.”


	9. Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks so much for all the kudos and kind comments, it really does keep the ideas flowing. I was supposed to be decorating today, but like some karmic retribution for weather being nice for once I've been knocked on my ass with hayfever! so decided, what the hell, I'll write some stuff instead. Thanks for sticking with me!

 

“You okay?”

Peter starts, looks up at Jones.

“Yeah, fine.” 

“Because you know you don’t look it right?”

Peter sighs, long and hard.  “It’s nothing…” He turns to the side, putting Neal Caffrey in his peripheral vision. “Just, he's not how I expected.”

Jones looks through the one-way glass into the interview room.

“He's nervous.” Jones describes what they both see.  Caffrey hadn’t sat still since they dropped him in there. “Not unusual.  He's what, twenty-four? With all the crimes we can charge him with, hell he’ll be lucky to be out before he's forty.”

“And he’s deserve everyone one of those years, but he’s also just a kid.” Peter shakes his head. 

“A kid who also happens to be a criminal mastermind.”

Peter grins.  “I don't think you believe that anymore than I do.”  Looking back through the glass sobers him.  “I didn't become an FBI Agent to lock up kids.”

“Me neither, I became an FBI agent to lock up criminals so they can't hurt anyone else.” Jones says in all seriousness.  “Don't let those baby blues fool you, he's a con-artist.  He lies and steals for a living.   Kid or no, sooner or later he was going to cross the wrong people and land himself in a whole other mess of trouble, probably even get himself killed.  Putting him away, we’re doing him a favour.” 

“A favour.” Peter repeats.  “Yeah, I can live with that.”

…

“So, Mr Caffrey”

“So, Agent Burke.” Neal grins, wide and bright, making sure to show all his teeth.

“Nice to finally talk to you, face to face.”

Peter’s playing it cool, like this is any other two-bit interrogation he’s had this week, but Neal knows better.  “Oh, we’ve met.”

“Yeah,” he finally looks up from the paperwork in his hand. “I remember.  Thanks for the lollipop. That was sweet.”

The banter continues, back and forth for a few rounds of questioning on various crimes and topics, until Peter ends it.

“How old are you kid?”

“How old do you want me to be?”

Peter gives him a long-suffering look.

“You know how old I am.” Neal sighs, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, not at all sure why’d he’d taken them that way.

“I know how old you claim to be.  Or rather how old your aliases are.”

“What's the difference?”  Neal shrugs.

He didn’t think Peter would be all that hung up on his age.  Neal himself didn’t think about it, hadn’t recognised his birthday since turning eighteen.  Wasn’t sure he could tell anymore, even if he wanted to.

“The difference is, which crimes do I charge you as a minor and which as an adult?  It’s quite a list.”

Neal’s turn to sigh. “I'm legal.  Trust me.”

“Trust you?”  Peter laughs, as if the concept was ludicrous.  

He smiles blindingly.

“From where I sit,” Peter turns the papers he’s been hanging onto around, “everything we’ve got suggests a kid having one hell of gap year.”

Neal opens his mouth to respond, but quickly slams his jaw shut.  He wasn't going to just defend himself, he was going to brag.  Give the feds all they needed to hang him.

Neal’s smile is genuine this time.

“Touché Agent Burke.”

Peter’s smile never falters, but the disappointment is clear.

“Okay, Neal.  If that’s all you’ve got to say, I’ll see you at trial.”

And with that he stands to leave.

...

Peter stands and keeps walking.  It’s hard.  He wants to press, to push until the kid breaks, but his instinct is Neal isn't going to say anything, not on their terms at any rate.  His final play hinges on one thing and the closer he gets to the door the harder it’s becoming to follow through.  Two more steps and he’ll be out.  Peter is quickly coming up with plan b when-

“What that's it, you’re leaving me?”

 _Leaving me?_  Peter files that Freudian slip away for later.  Meanwhile he takes a second to wipe the surprised yet satisfied, and slightly relieved smile off his face before turning around.

“What more is there?”  He asks coolly.

Neal looks worried, it’s the first real emotion Peter’s seen in the kid since the arrest.  “I don't know.” He shrugs, eyes breaking contact, drifting to his hands now clasped tight and resting on top of the table.  “I thought maybe after all this time we could… talk?”

“Like you said, we’ve talked plenty.”

Peter keeps his tone hard, practically having to bite his tongue to stop any kind of sympathy from leaking out.

“Agent Burke?”  Neal’s eyes rise up from the table where his head has dropped, chin hitting his chest.

Something churns inside Peter’s chest, unsettling his stomach.  The quiet shyness in Caffrey’s voice is nearly his undoing, leaving him unsure of his next move.  Peter is never not sure.  “Yeah?”

“What am I looking at here?”

 _Gotcha_.  His excitement at getting Neal to the point of desperation is dulled only by that childish tone.

“I can't say.”  Peter walks back over and retakes his seat across from Neal.  “But without your confession, you’ll stand trial for all the crimes you’re a suspect in.” Peter sighs, and finds it isn’t an act, he really does feel bad for the kid.  “You’re at risk of the maximum.”

Peter internally berates himself. What the hell is he doing?

“If I'm found guilty.”  Neal clarifies, sounding suddenly much more put together.

The Caffrey grin is back.  The scared kid gone, just like that.  Peter finds he feels better.  He prefers dealing with cocky Caffrey, because looking at the scared kid that Peter is sure Neal is would be his undoing.

“Oh, you’ll be found guilty.”

“Guess we’ll have to see about that.” The grin slips slightly.  “Can you call me a lawyer?”

And like someone flicked the switch, the kid is back, scared and unsure.

What Peter should do is convince Caffrey to give a full confession.  Neal technically hasn't asked for a lawyer, only asked if Peter can call one.  A mistake he should exploit, one he wouldn’t normally hesitate to, but instead Peter finds himself saying-

“You don't have one on retainer?”

Neal blinks, wide blue eyes looking directly at Peter.  “Never needed one before.”

Finding himself nodding, Peter does leave this time and immediately bumps into Jones.

“We’re not offering a deal?”

Peter makes sure the door is fully closed, moving them around to look at the kid through the viewing glass before speaking.

“We’ll give him a fair trial based on what we have.” He hears himself saying.  “Best deal we can give him.”


	10. The Office Newbie

 

The pair are in the conference room. They returned in a flustered mood after being absent most of the morning.  Or at least Agent Burke had.  With Caffrey it was harder to tell, but by the way Burke had marched him through the office, fist bunched in the jacket worth more than a month’s salary, it was obvious something hadn't gone to plan. 

More than a few Agents are hanging around the break room when he enters, probably because, like him, they all want to know what’s going on and it just so happens the break room is located conveniently adjacent to the conference room, affording a good view through the glass walls.  Neither Burke or Caffrey appear to notice the gathered crowd or surreptitious looks being thrown their way.  There’s lots of arm swinging and hand gestures from Burke, a clear sign he is not happy.  This goes on for a full minute, Caffrey sitting obediently on one of the chairs before a definitive finger point, an implied order for Caffrey to stay put.  Now what normally happens on occasions like this is Burke yells, Caffrey smiles and everyone gets on with their day.  But this time that doesn't seem to be happening.  Burke leaves the conference room, storming across the mezzanine and marches straight into Hughes office.  The hand actions are lessened, but still there.  Urgency is what everyone is seeing now, not the usual levels of frustration associated with a Burke-Caffrey stand-off.  Looking back to Caffrey, he's doing as he’s been told and not moved.  That’s another clue something isn’t right.

Burke and Hughes head into the briefing room together.  Up until this point things were unusual, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility.  That is until Hughes steps forward and crouches down, bringing him eye level with Neal, who’s slumped in his chair.  The look on Hughes face matches the one on Burkes.  Hughes doesn't linger.  He reaches out and checks Caffrey’s pupils, squeezing his shoulder as he stands.  Hughes exchanges a few words with Burke by the door before leaving them to it.

He can’t look away now, even if he wanted to.  Surreal doesn’t cover it.  Burke steps forward taking Hughes place.  Caffrey’s less compliant with him.  With Hughes he'd played the perfect child, sitting still and nodding in all the right places.  Now Burke is talking, hands holding both of Caffrey’s arms and Caffrey is fidgeting, trying to pull away.  Burke takes no crap from him any day and, grateful something’s haven’t changed, he watches Burke give Caffrey a firm shake before giving up on talking and simply hauling him up.

That’s when things go all bizarro-world.  The fight leaves Caffrey quickly.  There’s no smiles, no words, clearly no thought to his behaviour since Neal allows Burke to pull him in.   Burke whispers something into his ear, and by god he’d love to know what was said because Caffrey’s fight dissolves right then and there, folding into Burke like he’s the only thing holding him up, going so far as to rest his head on the guy’s shoulder.  Now, he maybe the office newbie, but he caught on pretty quickly Burke isn’t like most section leads.  Even so, that knowledge does not prepare him to understand what he’s witnessing unfold before his very eyes.  He looks around to see if anyone finds this as surreal as him, but it seems the break room is suddenly empty, the gathering having quickly dispersed without him noticing. 

Turning around to do as he’d originally planned and grab a coffee, the answer to why is clear.

“Need something Agent?”

He hesitates, humming and awing, shuffling back and forth unsure how to answer in a way that won’t result in Berrigan wanting to kick his ass.  She’s damn scary on the best of days and today obviously wasn’t one of them, having returned shortly before Burke and Caffrey looking just as beat up and twice as pissed off. 

He quickly shakes his head, showing her his empty mug.  Berrigan accepts his answer with a nod, but still waits for him to refill and leave.  Walking back to his desk he can’t help but throw a glance up at the conference room once more.  The pair are still there.  Settling down at his desk, placing the coffee on the outside edge, barely seconds pass before EMTs burst through the main offices double doors.

He keeps his head down and try’s not to stare as they make their way through and up to the conference room.

Eight weeks he’s been in White Collar, he’d thought he’d seen just about everything there was to see when it came to investigating embezzlement and mortgage fraud.  Turns out he couldn’t be more wrong.

 

 


	11. James Bennett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deleted and reposted as chapter 13!

:) :) :) :) :)


	12. Matthew Keller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by Pechika! Thanks for the suggestion... Sorry for the wait :)

Caffrey is a daddy's boy.

This, Keller knows, is a fact. No matter who he's worked with, or even if he pulled a job alone, Neal Caffrey was always trying to impress  _someone_. So, it's no surprise that when he finally tracks the young criminal mastermind down, Keller finds he's attached himself to none other than the FBI Agent who'd finally caught him.

Keller had timed his arrival in New York to coincide with Caffrey's release, hoping to reengage his young counterpart. For his perfectly crafted plan to succeed he needed a worthy opponent and Neal certainly fit that bill. Ever since Monaco, the potential in Caffrey was immense. They could have made quite a team, if only the kid's motives were as clear cut as his own. The little bastard never did give a shit about the score, it was just a happy bonus for him at the end of the day. All Neal cared about was the challenge. If a con looked to be going south he'd give up his treasure in a heartbeat. That's why Neal Caffrey became such a legend.

That's why Matthew Keller wanted to take him down.

Neal wasn't special. He was a child. Acting out to get attention from anyone who bothered to give it. Mozzie was the first person to take advantage of that childish desperation, that Keller was aware of at any rate. He knew most of Caffrey's plans were in fact Mozzies plans. The weird little guy had no hope on his own, so he found someone he could literally command. Neal was so easy that way. He'd followed his lead too, back in the day. Keller had been buttering him up for months before the job where that moron couldn't even keep his own I.D in check. The idiot deserved the bullet between the eyes. It was a mercy killing as far as he was concerned. Neal didn't see it that way of course, and they parted ways there and then. He still remembers the look of shock and fear on the kid's face, smiles madly to himself in anticipation of being able to recreate that moment again very soon.

He had to admit, finding out young Caffrey had made yet another bone headed move didn't surprise him. Keller only wishes he'd travelled here a few months earlier to relish in the blotched escaped attempt. Reconnecting with Kate while little Neal was behind bars would have been the perfect segue into his master plan. Would have drummed up just the right amount of fiery vengeance to truly make his plan work too. But alas, he'll have to work with what he's got. And what he's got is apparently one, FBI Agent Peter Burke. The man who took a less than legit interest in Caffrey, if he does say so himself. Watching them these past few weeks, it's been an education. Burke acting like an overprotective parent, Neal jumping all around him like a desperate to please puppy and tantruming toddler rolled into one. Yes, there was no doubt in Keller's mind. Neal Caffrey had finally found someone who was as desperate to give attention as Neal was to receive it.

Over the months he'd been following them Peter Burke had saved Caffrey's ass on a weekly basis. Whether it was giving the kid a stern telling off in the middle of the street, or literally carrying his ass out of a place he had no business being. It didn't seem to matter what kind of trouble the kid got himself into, Burke would always show up in the nick of time to get him out of it. He's watching Burke go to the rescue right now in fact. After their little bust up earlier Keller thought he might have an opportunity to put the next stage of his plan into action, but the woman who'd arrived at Caffrey's place forced him to hang back. He followed them both to Brooklynn and it wasn't until Burke himself showed up soon after, opening the door with a key no less, that Keller realised this was the agents house. Caffery had lead him right to it.

The SWAT team's presence made it certain he wouldn't be getting anywhere near the kid tonight though, and after witnessing the touching reunion between him and Burke from a safe distance across the street, Keller also knew it was going to take a lot more than a tempting offer to get Neal to cross the line he needed him to in order for his plan to be a success. Neal was a loyal son of bitch to anyone who showed him a hint of kindness and Peter Burke was the kind of guy that needed to be needed. They were a perfect pair. And that, that was a weakness Keller could exploit. Because he had no such loyalties or desires, there were no lines or limits. He wants the prize above all else. Caffrey can keep his thrills, his need to shout ' _look at me'_  at the top of his voice. Burke can carry on in his role as Neal's righteous protector. In the end it's him who'll be the winner. He's going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel's & the Perps POV, plus more Peter & Neal coming soon.


	13. James Bennett - redo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay something went wrong a while ago.  Long story short, here's the real James Bennett chapter!  Thanks to anyone who left reviews for the unfinished drafts I apparently accidentally posted a while ago lol.  Yes I'm going to cut back on the wine - or post in the morning instead. :) (Some dialogue taken from the episodes gloves off and vested interest – so not mine)

He'd arrived in New York earlier that morning. The 250-mile trip from DC taking almost twice the time it should have thanks to avoiding the main roads. He'd heard about Katherine via a friend in the marshals' service and knew if they got to her, with a protection detail no less, they'd get to him too if he didn't take precautions.

Watching the procession make its way to the graveside a pang of guilt hits him. Could he have prevented this? If he'd acted sooner to the email, dropped in the forever empty inbox he'd been checking religiously over the past three years, would Katherine be alive right now to give him the answers he so desperately needs? The thought, like the guilt, is fleeting. James had hardened over the years; being on the run, essentially exiled from everyone who knew him, made him that way. At least that's what he tells himself, has told himself every morning for the past thirty years, when he wakes alone and bitter, without the family he once possessed.

Once all the attendees have gathered James scans the faces for anyone familiar but recognises no one. No reason he should. Katherine would have cut ties with anyone they'd known from DC the day she went into WITSEC. Studying the small mix of what amounted to Ellen Parker's closest friends, he was about to give up, leave the meagre offering of flowers on a nearby bench and disappear to explore other avenues. Then  _he_  showed up. Accompanied by another man no less, someone who James is aware could cause him a great deal of trouble. His friend in the marshals' office had kept him informed of all sorts of things over the years. Nothing so overt as the location of protected witnesses, otherwise he'd have found Katherine long ago… Just information you could get readily if you knew exactly where to look, and who for, of course.

James had searched for his wife and son in the beginning, after leaving Montana he felt enough time had passed that he could convince her to take him back. He'd not understood the reason for the divorce at first, felt for sure the woman he married would understand he'd done what was best to keep them all safe. It wasn't until later, a little bit of digging, a little bit of persuading the right people that James found out about Katherine's evidence. She'd taken it with her and no one quite knew what was in it. But James did. He knew then and there why he no longer had a wife and a son by his side. He didn't hate Katherine for it, she'd likely been trying to exonerate him, she hadn't known half of it when she arrested him. He liked to believe that's why she kept the evidence and didn't hand it to the marshal's. Because if she had, he's certain he wouldn't be standing here now, watching her funeral.

Watching Neal, seeing his child as a grown man, it takes his breath away. His little boy… heart racing, an ache building in his shoulder, moving down his arm at speed - anyone unused to the symptoms of anxiety would assume they were on the verge of a heart attack. But James gets himself under control quickly. Erases the image of an adoring wide-eyed child looking up to him as if he was his whole world and takes deep even breaths. The pain recedes, his heart slowing to a dull thud, thud, thud. He'd acquired some pictures over the years, mostly F.B.I composites and a few older ones from his buddy in the marshal's, then one day six years ago, his son's mug shot was front page of the New York Times. His son was a convicted criminal just like him, and he was going to jail. James didn't know how to feel. Part pride, his boy was a clever son of a bitch. But also, disappointment, his wife had taken their child away from him and look what he became. Look at the good it did. If he'd been in their lives the kid would have known right from wrong that was for sure, he'd have taught him the same way fathers had been teaching their boys for generations.

His kid was clever, but he was also soft. Of course, that softness, that easy to manipulate - put a shiny thing in front of him and watch him fetch - nature was going to make it that much easier to get what he wanted now. So, he wasn't going to bemoan a fate he can't change, especially when it serves his purpose in the long run. Agent Burke, he was going to be a problem though. One James would have to remove pretty quickly.

Seeing the service was over, it didn't take long for his presence to be registered by the two men standing side by side not twenty feet away.

"Sam!"

James ducks and runs. He didn't expect that brassy a move, but of course this is his kid, he was going to have to expect the unexpected. His plan for Burke would have to wait.

…

His plan had been working perfectly. Getting the email wasn't a surprise after the pursuit at the funeral. The effort he'd put into forcing a low profile was paying off, the kid was desperate enough to meet his demands to keep the FBI in the dark. Soon he'd have the kid exactly where he wanted him. Or so he thought-

When the buzzer sounds, James cautiously lifts the hand set and doesn't speak, but that doesn't seem to matter.

"Sam, Special Agent Burke FBI." James rears back, he can't believe this guy. "I'm Neal's friend and handler."

Forming a quick plan James grabs the gun he keeps hooked in his waist band, taking up position he presses the buzzer to release the door, using the same paranoid persona that has so far worked on Neal.

Burke eyes the gun the second steps inside. Smart guy. Obviously, a lawman through and through. James almost respects that.

"You must be Sam."

James returns the wary look, part of his act, but also not so far from the truth. Neal is putty in his hands at the moment, but this guy, this guy could unravel everything.

"Come on in."

James leads them into the dining room, Burke makes directed small talk designed to gain intel. Sharing Sam's ex-colleagues' words was especially well played. He doubts Burke has actually spoken to anyone who Sam had been closed to, beyond Katherine of course, otherwise there'd be no need for the subterfuge.

"You investigated me." He makes it sound like a statement, but he really does need to know how far Peter Burke is digging, because eventually a rock will be overturned and the shit will hit the fan.

"I investigate anyone who comes into Neal's life." Burke's expression doesn't change, "Especially when its tied in to murder and conspiracy."

James can't help but feel a smirk growing, if circumstances were different, if he was the man he'd been thirty years ago, he could imagine getting on well with FBI Agent Peter Burke. But that's a man he hasn't been for a long time, right now he needs to know, is Neal really willing to do what's asked of him, or has he been conning him this entire time?

"Did he send you?"

"No, he doesn't know I'm here."

 _Perfect_ , James walks off. This could actually work to his advantage. The final nail in the FBI coffin.

"You're running around behind his back. You sure that's in his best interest?"

"He doesn't want to break his word with you and involve the FBI."

"With good reason Agent Burke," very good reason, he struggles to hold back a grin and hands over the water glass.

"Who are you afraid of Sam?"

James plays the 'in the dark' card, makes it about avenging Katherine, though he calls her Ellen because that's how Burke knows her. Burke as predicted offers his help, asks they work together, asks him to talk to Neal to make it happen. He makes it sound like it's his goal too, but James knows they're both lying. Burke wants in because Neal wants in. They both have their own agenda's and ulterior motives. His is the evidence, but James isn't quite certain about Burke's.

"He doesn't get that I'm trying to protect him."

James listens to the speech. The one law-enforcement official to another was a good line. And if he really was Sam then he dares says it would have worked. But Burke is appealing to the wrong man, and a little of James thinks he knows it to.

"I understand. He's your asset." He can't help but comment, wanting to minimise the relationship this man shares with  _his_  son.

The look of worry he can see in Burke's eyes now he's stood before him, it's not dissimilar from the despair which radiates of Neal every time the subject of involving the FBI is brought up. James wants to ignore it, but it's there and it makes him so…

"Yeah, that's part of the arrangement." With those final words Peter Burke takes his leave, not giving him a chance to put a word to his feelings or offer a rejoinder.

Watching the door close an inkling of doubt infects his brain, James knows he's lost this round. In more ways than one.

He'll give him this, Peter Burke was a smart man, but he's also a desperate one. For him to come looking behind the kid's back, clearly, he's not weakened the bond in these two enough. Extreme measures were needed. Something that would be quick, painful, and ensure their relationship shattered at their feet, making any chance of a reconciliation a distance prospect. The evidence box could be anywhere after all and he needed time to find it. He needed Neal to find it.

Thoughts of Neal, of his son, bring forth that inkling of doubt in a massive wave. Theirs is not a traditional CI-Handler relationship, Burke has let Neal into his home and personal life. No CI had that kind of material over their only link to staying out of jail, it would be career suicide. If he goes through with his plan he's knowingly destroying what appears to be his son's strongest bond… when he inevitably disappears again, he'll be leaving Neal with no one.

No. He can't look at it that way. He needs to focus on what matters. The greater good. That meant finding the evidence and ensuring none of it gets out. Katherine left her things to Neal, that meant she'd left the evidence to him too. Probably her plan all along. Not satisfied with breaking up his marriage and destroying all hope of regaining his family. If Neal found out the truth about his old man… well let's just say, along with the aim of staying out of jail, he quite likes seeing the wide-eyed wonder he remembers so well. Neal may know a lot more than James is comfortable with, but he hasn't renounced him yet. Replaced him, possibly, thinking of just how much investment Burke has in Neal and vice versa. But while the truth is still unknown, James Bennett holds a special place in his boy's heart. Even if his only way to connect with Neal is as Sam, James feels he will have to live with what he can get.

With his goal square in mind James decides now's a good time to make a phone. Let Neal know his handlers stepping out of bounds. Break the kids trust in Peter Burke once and for all.

…

James showed up at Neal's place after giving Peter at the FBI enough time to try - and fail - to rebuild what he lost. Pretty sure from what he was seeing that he'd reached his goal. Whatever the relationship between his son and Burke, it was irreparably severed.

"It's just a question of whether or not I work alone." James asks, needing absolute clarity before moving forward.

"I think we've got everyone we need in this room right now."

There it is. The question asked and answered, without hesitation. The kid was finally saying what he wanted to hear. No FBI. Perfect. James starts to smile, pride in his accomplishments. And something else, the jealousy he didn't know he felt until now was easing too. A double win.

"No suit?" The little guy with no name sounds surprised.

"No Peter."

James doesn't think he sounds too happy about it, but Neal leaves little room to pry. No Burke meant no one to challenge him, Neal would believe anything he said at this point and frankly the little guy couldn't hold his own against an army of flies. When Neal starts talking excitedly about the taking the tracker from the convention James realises he's getting a glimpse of the kid he missed grow up. How many times had his boy excitedly shared his thoughts or ideas with another person? Those lucky sons of bitches got to see the spark in his eyes, hear the lilt in his voice. He's missed so damn much.

Later the next evening, nursing his bloodied nosed and aching bones, he's sitting out on the balcony contemplating time lost when Neal walks in. James had heard him coming up the stairs and quickly grabbed the newspaper, wanting to hide his face before it revealed too much.

"You holding up?"

"Trying to. Any leads?" He asks to drive the conversation onto a topic of his choosing.

"We'll know who we're dealing with soon enough."

Kid's cell rings before he can dig further. The spark he'd seen in their earlier exchanges was gone. What's also gone, is Neal's anger towards Burke. He seems complacent now. But it's a fake sense of ease. Something's going on…

"You okay?"

Neal hangs up on the caller and turns, face pale and eyes glistening. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" But James knows what, that bastard Burke has finally dug up what James had tried so heartily to hide.

"That you're my father."

Neal's eyes are shining brighter than ever, but not with the light of excitement or thrill of the con like he's seen so far.

"Why did you lie to me?" The words are shouted, tears barely held back.

James has to accept the guilt he feels, he wouldn't be human if he didn't. Whatever anyone may think, it wasn't his plan to hurt anyone, least of all his own kid, but sometimes there were casualties no matter how hard you tried. Pushing everything down, so as not to disturbed any of the latent emotions still lingering near the surface from the lie he's been living, James follows Neal into the kitchen. Ignoring the way the kid's chest heaves and his eyes scream distress, James focuses on the question and the photo thrust in his face.

Burke bursts in not twenty minutes later and interrupts his narrative. Shame, he'd had a good flow going. Actually thought the kid was starting to feel sorry for him. It's time for a change of approach, with his intent and secret discovered, dictating rules to these two isn't going to wash. If Burke is the man he thinks he is, appealing to his sense of mercy is key.

"I understand you have every reason not to trust me right now, Burke." He stands and assumes a position of surrender; pretty sure the FBI Agent would just be looking for any chance to shoot him.

Suddenly the conversation is between him and Burke, and James is at a disadvantage. Neal wants to know about his dad, and James can use that. Peter from the FBI on the other hand is much more level headed. He wants to protect Neal. He tries to save his skin by reminding them he didn't lie, they assumed. But that bites him in the ass when Burke brings up Katherine. Neal's been standing at Peter's side, looking conflicted and scared and hurt, but as soon as Peter mentions Ellen his gaze hardens, anger focused on him.

James closes his eyes, defeated. "No."

Smug bastard Burke just nods, let's Neal make the accusation.

"So, you lied to Ellen too?"

And just like that all the good will he's built up, the trust from the kid… gone. Destroyed by the goddamn FBI. Only way to go now is to be honest. He's desperate. That evidence box is the only thing standing between him and a life sentence thanks to some omitted details in his first confession on which his WITSEC deal was based, and he'll do everything in his power to get it.

It works, for the most part. Burke gives Neal permission to fill him in. That rankles, but he can't afford to show it. The amount of information Peter has gathered in such a short time is a surprise. Knowing Flynn's boy was involved in Katherine's murder? Well that's not what he expected. Meant she wasn't killed for what she had. Or maybe she was and like before there was someone higher up pulling the strings. It made him angry that his life is once again being torn apart by this goddamn family. He needs to leave, now. Before he said or did anything he might regret.

"I'll be in touch."

James doesn't see the look Neal gives him as he walks out. Correction. He does see it, but the emotion behind it doesn't register. That's how he's survived all these years. James leaves and doesn't look back.

…

About three weeks go by without too much movement on the evidence box, but between him and the kid, things were back on track. Like everything James does in life, he worked the circumstances it to his advantage. Luckily for him, Burke was on his side this time. James didn't doubt for second the whole coming together routine was merely to insure Neal had no compulsion to go behind his back. Anyone would think Burke was an expert kid wrangler the way he played the game so cleverly. To the outside observer, he came off as merely wanting to help. And as James got closer to the kid, sure he started to feel… human again. Like a dad. But the reality was he need that evidence now more than ever. Neal was determined and when they got it, well it wouldn't matter what relationship they had. The truth would be his undoing. He needed that box and he needed Pratt out of the picture. It's that drive, that desperation which had him pushing and pushing, until Neal pushed back. It's that altercation which had him standing on the Burkes doorstep, hoping Peter Burke was as reasonable and open minded as he claimed to be.

When the knock sounds Peter opens his door a crack and forces his body into the gap so their visitor can't get even a look into his home.

"What do you want, James?"

Bennett is no fool. He steps back, the picture of guilt and regret. "Is he here?"

"I think you know he is, otherwise you wouldn't be." Eyes narrowed, chin tilted up, Peter doesn't back up or lessen his glare on his late-night visitor.

"Look I went back to his place to apologise and," James sighs, changing tactic when it's clear Peter isn't going to soften in anyway. "Well where else would he go with that thing on his ankle?"

"How about prison? You seem pretty intent on sending him back there." Peter quips, breaking his promise to El not to antagonize the situation. "Oh, wait, this someone who can put a hit on the Irish mob - Neal probably wouldn't make it through the transport!"

James had the nerve to grin, daring to rationalise _._ Giving him a spiel that amounted to -  _You don't know what it's like._

Peter had had enough. Throwing the door wide open he steps out into the dark night, forcing James further down the steps to the sidewalk.

"You know what? Unlike you, I don't know what it's like to be locked up, but I've got a pretty good idea what it was like for Neal for four years and I'd think being his father you wouldn't want to put him back there."

"He can help."

"No." Peter is aghast. "He can't. Not in that way. But judging by the way he showed up here tonight I'm guessing he already told you that."

"I lost my temper." James shrugs. "I came to apologise."

"Peter, it's okay." Neal appears at the open door behind them. Elizabeth right on his heels, looking like she completely disagrees.

Peter too disagrees. It is most definitely not okay. But he respects Neal's choice and side steps to let James pass and walk inside. Before he can cross the threshold, Peter catches his arm, fingers pinching flesh hard enough to entice a wince, he whispers in his ear.

"I don't care how old he is, you touch him like that again and I'm going to make you pay to the full extent of the law."

James nods needlessly, and Peter let's him past.

Their unwelcome guest is standing alone in the dining room by the time Peter calms himself enough to walk back inside. Neal is waiting for him by the stairs, fidgeting nervously and looking fretful, black eye fully visible despite the ice El had readily applied. All it takes is smile and warm hand pressed into the small of his back to calm the nerves and bring back a hint of the confidence Neal exudes daily.

Standing side by side, they face James together. A proud smile spreading slowly across his face, Peter wraps his arm around Neal's shoulders, sending a possessive glare James' way. He can see from the disappointment Bennett's trying so hard to hide whatever plan he had in coming here, he knows it isn't going to work. Despite James' despicable attempts to break apart the only stability this kid's had since running away from his mom over a decade ago, he and Neal are partners, and no one will ever change that.

 

A/N thanks for reading and all the reviews!


	14. Peter's realisation

 

" _Peter_?"

It takes me a second or two, enough time for another questioning, shyly uttered  _Peter_ to reach my ears before I finally look up.

"What is it Neal?" I snap, I know I do and the second I see his face drop I regret it, but I've never been someone to beat myself up over minor transgressions and so I'm not going to start now.

Untypically Neal doesn't answer my hastily phrased question. Stood not five feet from me in the doorway of my office, his mouth is moving but words are absent. On a normal day I'd take great pride in turning Neal Caffrey, the kid that has an endless stream of energy and the words to match into a silent movie. But this isn't a normal day. And I'm too busy with attaching the many straps that come part and parcel of a bullet proof vest, ready to take down one of the most ruthless bastards White Collar had ever seen to pay attention to what I'm seeing.

"The sting's going down in twenty minutes we need to get moving." I say to fill the air. "You're staying here."

"I want to come."

I pause, pulling the last strap tight. "Neal,"

But Neal rightly predicts what I'm going to say, and interrupts with his own version of the speech I've used many times before on Hughes to justify my presence on a case where technically I had no business being.

"Please Peter!"

Please _Peter._ Why is it every time Neal says my name it feels like it holds much more weight than when anyone says it? Like for some reasons its not just a name to Caffrey, it's a title, a label-

"Burke!"

See, that's Hughes shouting me to get a move on. Sounds exactly the same as when Diana or Jones or any number of agents use my name to get my attention.

"Neal I've got to go, I'll be back before you know it." And when the hell did I start feeling like I had to explain my movements to Neal. It's supposed to be the other way around damn it. I move to leave but he steps in front of me. "Fine," I give in! "You sit in the van with Jones. Don't touch anything and don't get in the way."

I don't get treated to the Caffrey smile like I'm expecting. All I get is a tight-lipped facsimile of a smile which I'm guessing is supposed to look more joyful than it does. Neal Caffrey con artist and world class charmer is clearly having an off day.

"Where's Caffrey going?"

I groan, knew Hughes wouldn't miss the fact Neal was trailing behind me like a lost pup.

"He's going to stay in the van until we need him." I pray for no one to ask the million-dollar question, but my lapsed Catholic ways come back to bite me.

Diana appears on my left. "Why would we need him?"

I bite my tongue, hard. "Carlson has a safe in his office. If we want that safe open Neal's the best we got. Don't need the Rembrandt going the way of those Canadian dollars from the Hagen case."

"Good point." Hughes gives Neal a respectable nod, he may only tolerate him for my sake, but Reece is a good man who respects talent when he sees it.

I turned to Neal "Come on," and nod to the door, letting him follow the rest of the team with me bringing up the rear. "Let's take this asshole down."

…

"You did what?" El over reacts when I fill her in on mine and Neal's day.

"It was over in seconds. One look at Diana and all three guys gave themselves up without firing a shot."

I'd forgotten for a second who I was talking to and unthinkingly launched into the details of a takedown that not only went perfectly but was my most exhilarating experience since taking over as lead Agent.

"I liked that you worked White Collar because it was safer, all paper trails and corrupt business man. I don't like that you're around guns and who knows what." I watch El take a large gulp of her wine, looking reprovingly at me over the rim.

I offer an apologetic smile and beg for forgiveness with my eyes. She's still a little on edge thanks to my semi recent kidnapping by Keller. That was the first real on the job scare I've given her where the outcome wasn't already known. Even after my poisoning with Kent she didn't know what had happened until I got the all clear, so I got to fudge a bit, with a little help from Neal. Not great by any means, but people always say it's the not knowing that's worse-

"Oh shit."

El looks up at me with worried eyes. "What?"

I huff. How did I not notice? The quietness, the worried looks and the shy exclamation of my name. "Neal."

El frowns, eyebrows drawing together in confusion not annoyance. She notices the lack of irritation in my tone immediately, because honestly, I manage to put all of my feelings into that one name, much like Neal does with mine.

"Neal was acting strange at the office right before we left. I didn't think too much about it." I look into her eyes, searching for something I'm not sure I have the right to, but I hope anyway. "I think he was scared."

"Hon," and there it is, that understanding yet patronising nod that shouldn't need to be given because I can't be such a single focused ass. "Neither of us like the idea of you going into dangerous situations. Of course, he'd be worried about you."

"This was more than worry." I take a second to go back to the moment he walked into my office and ever so quietly demanded my attention with a shyly uttered  _Peter_. "He was scared. I mean really scared."

"Is that why we currently have a young ex-con sleeping off a bottle of chateau noir on our couch." She nods at the lump accosted under a blanket, the one which Peter himself had fetched not long after it became clear Neal had bedded down for the night.

"He's technically still just a young  _con_. The 'ex' part doesn't kick in until his sentence is up." Which is really neither here nor there yet I feel the need to point it out.

"Peter, I see you leave this house every day wearing a suit and tie. What I don't see is what happens at work, I don't see the guns or the bad guys or the danger." El brings us back on topic, and rightly so I guess since I started all this with poorly timed epiphanies. "I'm sure Neal feels the same way I do every time I watch you put on your shoulder holster."

I want to deny it, down play it, hell I want to just go back in time to when the chase was on and the game was at it's best. This, whatever it is that has happened, has totally blindsided me. We used to be living our lives as Peter and Elizabeth. Now it's Peter, Elizabeth  _and_   _Neal_.

"What am I going to do?" I ask, hoping she has all the answers.

"You're going to do what you always do, you'll go to work and be as safe as you can be so you come back to us."

Us. El is using the plural and she knows it and she doesn't care.

"When did you and Neal become an us?"

She laughs, in my face, a twinkle in her eyes telling me I'm a complete idiot as she grabs my plate and hers and sashays into the kitchen. "The second you brought him home."

"I think you'll remember I didn't bring him." I start to shout, then remembering sleeping beauty over there quickly get up and chase after her. "He showed up, then  _you_  started inviting him."

"Okay." She nods, dropping the dishes into the sink and poking me. "When that agent you hit arrested him. He came running to you."

"I think you'll remember he came running to you."

"He went through me to get to you."

This is why I love my wife. She's never one to back down. Much like someone else I know.

"Fine. Okay. But-"

"No buts." She gives me her stern disapproving stare. "You brought Neal into our lives. Like it or not you can't close that door now."

"I don't want to close any door." The words are out of my mouth without thinking and I'm forced to recognise the truth of them.

Yes, things were simpler when Neal was just James Bonds. A riddle to solve. But honestly, I don't regret my decision to take him on. I really hope Neal doesn't think I do.

"He doesn't." El answers with a smile. I don't ask how she knows what I was thinking and I don't intend to ever ask, it's one of her many super powers. "Despite all the things he does that annoy you, you must be blind if you don't realise how much he loves you."

I scoff, want to tell her she's crazy, but, the truth is… I love him too. Again, when that happened I do not know. I'm clearly not immune to the Caffrey charm, but then who can look at the kid with those bright blue eyes and that shy smile he shows you when you pay him a compliment and not like him. Neal's not bad. He's just morally challenged. While chasing him I often referred to him as a kid but didn't realise how well that shoe fit until working with him day after day. Seriously, no impulse control, no thought to consequences. Neal needs boundaries alright, he needs managing like anyone would manage your average kindergartener.

"I think we've both had too much to drink." I say, but once again my mind reading wife knows what I'm not saying and just nods in return.

While El lets Satch out for a quick trip in the garden I stroll over to sit on the lip of the couch. Neal's squashed himself into the corner like a contortionist. I stare at him in my beer induced lightly buzzed haze, bestowing his sleeping form with the sappiest smile I've ever worn.

"Neal, I swear I will always try and come back to you." I swipe a hand over his head for good measure, not unlike the time in the Howser clinic after that confession that totally broke my heart. "You and El."

El walks back in, Satchmo curling up in his bed. "Ready?"

"Definitely," I stand and wrap my arm around her waist, both of us walking to the stairs.

A voice drifts to my ears when we're halfway up. "Love you."

I stop, one hand on the rail, the other still on El. She's laughing and quickly runs up. I take a quick glance down stairs, but the kid hasn't moved, not even a twitch. Shaking my head, I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I'm still smiling.

Voice droll, I decide to hell with it. If he remembers in the morning I'll blame it on the beer. "Love you too Neal."    


	15. Neal's Realisation part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A companion piece to Elizabeth's first impression .... and the start of Neal's realisation: Neal's always known there was more to his relationship with Peter than what was on the surface. Part 2 to follow soon. Can be read as a stand alone :)

 

Neal's so excited he can barely contain himself. He has a name for the Dutchman! The name that's going to keep him out of prison and able to look for Kate. As soon as the sun rises he's up, dressed and - by skipping breakfast - is out the door in record time. Peter would be proud.

Standing on the sidewalk of Riverside Drive looking as impeccable as ever, Neal hails a cab and instructs the driver to make haste. The morning is bright and full of promise, even in a city as dense as New York the air smells fresher than it does in prison and he winds the window down halfway, wanting to take it in as much as possible. Moving through the streets, feeling the warm summer breeze hit his skin Neal let's himself think of Kate, of seeing her again without a plexiglass screen, hearing her voice without the accompanying crackle of a defective phone cable, but most of all being able to hold her hand and kiss her lips for the first time without having to have one eye always looking over his shoulder.

The dream lasts until the cab makes its way across the Brooklyn Bridge, then it fades a little, apprehension slipping in the nearer they get to the other side. The heavy weight on his right ankle reminding him  _this isn't freedom_. Neal hates the little voice in his head that accuses him of conning himself. Ignores the singing mantra that's been taunting him on and off since his failed escape, calling him out on his true motivations for his excitement, for attaining his freedom in this way. It's a double-edged sword because Neal not only doesn't want to think too deeply about what the voice tells him, he can't. Listening means acknowledging he's looking for something more than just the girl. But the closer they get to Brooklyn the louder the voice gets.

The truth is he does want something more, something he'd come to rely on all those years on the run. Something prison took away. Seeing him again after four years, Neal honestly wasn't prepared for the surprising level of comfort he felt with the man's mere presence. Maybe it was just a right time, right place kind of thing, but having Peter Burke be the one to find him meant more to Neal than anything. Just admitting that to himself leaves the door wide open for further painful introspection on his life, so Neal slams it shut - fast - denying the thoughts further existence. He can't break from his cool and confident exterior or he'll reveal the bundle of nerves he really is and be unable to carry through with his little plan.

Pulling up outside the three-story home he feels exactly that. A mess of nervous anticipation and anxiety. He's always known where Peter lives, but never has he ventured this close before. That was a line he understood could not be crossed. Climbing out the cab is harder than he thinks it needs to be, but the mild unease he'd begun to experience on the way over had sky-rocketed in the few minutes it just took to pay his ride. Now standing on the sidewalk, about to walk up the steps of his former nemesis' lair Neal is questioning his decision not to wait the thirty or so minutes for Peter to pick him up. Finding himself in front of the closed front door and ringing the bell he continues to consider his true motivation for being here. He had always thought he only ever wanted Peter's seemingly idyllic life, but now he's starting to wonder - maybe it's Peter that he really wants.

"Can I help you?"

The light and airy voice interrupts his thoughts and Neal quickly tucks any rumbling doubt away. Greeting the pretty brunette with the same blue eyes as him with his trademark smile, Neal thought he had this meeting all planned out, but his plan to appear confident is derailed with her next words.

"Neal?"

It takes less than a second. Neal feels the smile slip from his face, thrown by the sudden familiarity. "Peter's spoken about me?" He covers quickly, coaxing a grin that's watery at best.

"Well you were quite a big part of our lives for a while there." Not anymore, he reads between the lines. Neal's smile slips again. "You want to come in?"

Elizabeth Burke stands aside and invites him in for coffee, invites him willingly into her home. Neal's hesitant. He knows Peter's wife less well than Peter, of course he didn't expect them to be polar opposite, but it still feels like she shouldn't be welcoming a criminal into her home unguarded.

Plan not seeming so well put together suddenly, Neal backs away, too afraid of taking advantage. "I probably shouldn't." He knows it sounds lame but really what else can he say?

"Nonsense, Peter's upstairs getting ready for work, he'll be down in a minute."

Before he can get out of grabbing range Elizabeth Burke shows as much gumption as her husband and drags him into the house, leaving him to wonder who has the upper hand here. If it were anyone other than Peter's wife he might question his safety. Seeing arguing is useless Neal gives up any protest and let's Elizabeth guide him towards the couch.

"Just so you know," he starts casually, aware the light on his anklet started blinking eight miles back and is now sporting a solid angry red. "The marshals might be visiting."

The marshals are clearly slow to react. Good to know if he ever did need to leave in a hurry.

Elizabeth just smiles as she shuts the door behind him. "I'll brew an extra pot of coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited The File – such an amazing response to that story. Always grateful to hear people are enjoying what I post ;) and this story of course!


	16. Neal's Realisation part 2

_'You said goodbye to everyone but me'_

Doesn't matter how many curve balls he's thrown, how many clever tricks he's pulled, Peter's always one step ahead of him, relentless. Why should now be any different?

"You said goodbye to everyone but me, why?"

Neal's standing on the tarmac, staring at the snow steadily falling from the sky, just steps away from gaining everything he's been searching for these last six months.

Or is he?

That's the damn question isn't it, the one he's asked himself over and over again since the dream started becoming a reality. He's chased it so long, has given so much, to simply walk away now would be ludicrous.

"I don't know." He lies. The first lie he's ever outright told Peter.

 _"_ Yeah, you do _."_ Peter insists, calling him out and not looking even a little bit sorry about it. "Tell me."

"I don't know! Okay" Damn it Peter. He knows. The man knows and he doesn't have to make him say it. "You know why!"

"Tell me!"

Neal looks to the sky for inspiration. A single tear trails his cheek and he wonders, how many times during the chase did Peter back off when he should have charged in? Did he tease the idea of an escape just to see how far Neal could be sent before springing back like a bungee? Has he always been on Peter Burke's leash and just not realised until it became a physical tether for him to grasp onto.

"You're the only one who could change my mind." There, he said it. He hopes Peter's pleased with himself.

Seeing the smile playing his lips Neal's sure he is. As much as it cost him, he didn't want to take that away. He likes making him happy, and the idea Peter Burke's happiness meant more to him than reuniting with Kate…

"Did I?"

Blinking back further tears Neal turns and starts towards the plane, decision made. It doesn't feel real, or right or in any way how he hoped. Walking away from Peter hurts his chest like a ten-mile hike fuelled only on cheeseburgers. Neal manages two more steps before his legs seize up, feet refusing to budge. His thoughts spiralling, choices running through his mind, he has an idea. One that doesn't feel natural but it does feel right. If he goes through with his new idea he'll be breaking the pattern.

Running is what he's always done, running got him away to a better situation the first time around, but every time after that its just been his default. He's run so much, so often, that he now finds comfort in running from his problems. It's not brave or daring to up stakes and abandon a life where you belong, where your loved. Its cowardly and selfish. Kate will understand. He can do this for her. He can make things right by making this change, they can start again and have a better life together. The life he promised her with an empty bottle. A life they've both been running from all their lives.

Neal turns back, "Peter-"

The world which was cold, clear and fresh is suddenly hot and dark, the pain when he falls excruciating but short lived. The burn on his back, the aching in his knees quickly fades to a throb, leaving nothing but a dry hacking cough as he stands up again.

It takes no time to realise what's happened. The fire and falling debris providing enough of a visual to lead him to only one conclusion.

"Neal!"

The shout is muffled by the wind and the roar of fire, a ringing in his ears that's turned every sound inside out, echoing loudly in his own head. Only one thought hits him, erasing all others.

_Kate._

He screams for her, but his screams mix with those around him and somehow get lost because she can't hear and she doesn't answer. Only answer is from the man he'd stopped to say, to ask...  _help me?_ It was meant to be a gentle plea, no harm if he said no. A no would have meant him on the plane... him on the plane and in flames like –

"KATE!"

"No! No! No!" Peter's frantic voice in his ears, his arms tight around his body. "Stay here! Stay back!"

Neal fights and tries to scream her name some more but nothing comes out, voice dissolving into sobs as he faces the reality of his dream going up in smoke right before his eyes. " _P'ter?_ " He finally articulates, the name coming out strangled and wet, the 'r' making a  _wuh_ sound.

Calm and slow in his ears, he hears a whisper. "Stop kid, just stop."

Being crushed against another man's chest should insight a desperate need to be free but Neal does as he's told for once and turning to face Peter he folds, shaking against the warm body surrounding him. He drinks in the scent of sweat and spice and smoke, welcoming the darkness the woollen jacket provides.

_You're okay, you're okay, you're okay._

Neal hears over and over and over again inside his head. He wants to argue, he definitely isn't okay, it isn't even him that needed to be okay. He didn't matter, he's never mattered, he was nothing compared to her and if he died who would really care?

"Don't!" Neal's thrown back, a hard grip on his forearms making the skin underneath burn, "never say that! I would! I would care. Every damn day! Do you hear me?"

Stunned, Neal's limp like a rag doll hanging in Peter's arms. He tips his head back, acknowledging he heard while trying to work out if he had actually spoken those thoughts out loud. When he's pulled in for a second time, the  _'you're okay'_  mantra starts up again and this time Neal realises it isn't him saying it. It isn't in his head. It's being funnelled down his ear like an annoying tune that will be on repeat for days. It's Peter saying it. And he's not telling  _him_ , he's telling himself. Neal regains enough focus to realise he's not the only one shaking. Cheek resting comfortably against Peter's collar, gazing over at the flames he sees fire trucks are just arriving, their sirens loud and lights dulled by the billowing smoke.

"I'm okay." Neal coughs and chokes on the fumes.

The arms holding him tighten and a hand starts stroking through his hair.

"Don't look," Peter says, thumb moving back and forth along the base of his neck.

Neal wants to know if this is some kind of secret FBI sleeper trick, because although the flames are still roaring, the world is dimming and the warmth is too much to bear alongside the constant gentle touch.

"She's gone." Neal says simply, not realising his sleep filled words will be the final ones he'll say to Peter for six weeks.

"I know." Peter responds sadly.

Just before he passes out Neal realises Peter does know. Peter realised long before him and that annoys him but not enough to get up. He knows now too, and all he can think right now is if only he'd realised all this earlier. Maybe things would have worked out differently.


	17. Peter's First Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  So an Ooops.  I posted these two new chapters out of order... sorry for any confusion! But I'm sure you can all work it out :) 

' _He wants to go.'_

Fowler asked me why I care…  _hell if I know_. I've asked myself that same question again and again on the drive over and still don't have an answer. Neal's selfish, impulsive and has no understanding of the impact or consequences of his actions. He justifies everything and feels no guilt for the mess he leaves behind for others to clean up. Shooting Fowler was as much retribution for El as it was for Neal, but what am I doing now? Neal's clearly made his choice, what more is there to say?

I reach the hanger in plenty of time, see Neal approaching the plane.

"Are you here to arrest me?"

What a question, and said so bleakly, but I let him down gently. "I'm still a civilian." Not forcing him this time. He's big boy, he can make his own choices. At least that's what I keep telling myself despite all evidence to the contrary.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm here as your friend." It's the truth. I've denied it before, claimed only to care about the case or the job, but bottom line is I care about Neal… I've always cared.

After that bombshell, after putting myself out there for a change I leave it to him. He looks… distressed is probably not the right word, but he quickly becomes that way the more I tell him the truth. And in this case, it really does hurt, he's struggling to keep it together, but damn him, he just can't drop the act and be honest with himself for a change.

"Thank you for this."

After he hands me his I.D I'm not upset or disappointed. I'm angry, angry because the action doesn't match the emotion on his face. I'm not letting him hide behind the con this time. It's time to push, to play dirty and force him to face the truth. If he leaves I want him to know exactly what choice he's made, no justifying or blaming others. It's on him. He needs to own it.

"You said goodbye to everyone but me. Why?"

"I don't know." He lies, obviously, no eye-contact, no conviction in his words. No charm.

"Yeah you do, tell me."

"I don't know! Okay"

"Why?" I persist, talking over him, not giving him chance to put up a better façade.

"You know why!" He's voice shakes.

"Tell me!" I demand back, pushing him to break.

"Because you're the only one who could change my mind."

Got him. Am I proud I've reduced him to silent tears? No, not at all. But there's the truth. Now it's crunch time. Is Neal going to listen to what even he knows to be the truth or will he stick to his plan despite the cost. Will he run because the alternative is too scary, because being cared about is as terrifying for Neal as a nightmare you can't wake from.

"Did I?" It's not me asking, it's a question Neal needs to ask himself.

When he looks to the plane, to Kate, and walks away, that single tear trailing down his cheek that's when the disappointment hits. I'm determined to wait though, to see him on that plane. I'll say goodbye even if he can't bear to do the same.

I'm honestly surprised when he stops, I really thought that was it. Neal Caffrey never deviated from his plan. Then the plane goes up after saying nothing but my name. Flames and heat surround us both and I run for him, I run toward the flames.

"Neal!"

"KATE!" He cries for the girl who is no longer anything more than ash and soot.

"No! No! No!" My turn to scream, to shout and force him to listen. "Stay here! Stay back!"

Neal fights and tries to scream her name some more but nothing comes out, voice dissolving into sobs. " _P'ter?_ " He finally articulates, the name coming out strangled and wet, the 'r' making a  _wuh_ sound.

Calm and slow in his ears, I whisper. "Stop kid, just stop."

Crushing him against my chest I'm overcome with emotion. On one hand my heart is breaking, but on the other, holding him tight, feeling the warmth of him safe in my arms I can't help but feel relief. He takes less time than I thought to calm down, but after dissolving into sobs Neal turns in my grasp and holds me tight.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." I chant, pressing my face into his hair, reminding myself on all levels that he's alive. He's safe.

The low sobs fade, he starts talking.

At first, I don't understand, but listening closer I hear the horrible things he's saying about himself and anger boils up inside me.

"Don't!" I throw him back with force, fingers digging into his upper arms. "Never say that! I would! I would care. Every damn day! Do you hear me?"

Stunned, Neal's limp like a rag doll hanging in my arms. He tips his head back, half lidded eyes not grasping where my anger's coming from. He looks teary eyed and defeated so I pull him back in, try to brush over my reaction, hide my own tears. I'm shaking so hard I could easily fly apart. It's been a harrowing 24 hours of broken hearts and angry words. I'm tough on him because I know he needs that structure, but I never want him to think he doesn't matter as a person. I never want him to think I don't care.

Somethings changes in him. He seems to sink into me even more, shifting slightly to rest his cool head under my chin, looking out toward the plane. Fire trucks have arrived at the scene. It won't be long until they're found and questioned. The hardest part of all this is yet to come.

"I'm okay." Neal coughs and chokes on the fumes.

Smiling sadly, I squeeze him tight. My response to the obvious platitude he offers me, clearly catching on that  _I'm not alright_. Not by a long shot.

Running my hand through his hair, I stroke the back of his neck to push him into sleep. "Don't look," I whisper, and continue to coax him to relax. It'll be better for him in the long run. Sleep while he's exhausted, while I'm still around to protect him.

"She's gone." Neal says wearily.

"I know."

I do know. I've always known. I've tried to tell Neal. Tried to make him see the truth months ago, but Neal needed to learn for himself the hard way. Coming to the realisation Kate had been lost to him from the day she left him in prison is going to take a lot of processing. I only hope Neal let's me be there, I hope I have the opportunity to be there.

After all our partnership is just beginning. Unlike Kate it has longevity.

That's something else I know. Something I'm going to work hard at ensuring Neal learns and never forgets.


	18. Peter's final realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complete and utter sap. I make no apology's ;-P

"Peter!" Neal cheers the second he sets eyes on him slipping through the privacy curtain, throwing both arms up and letting them fall with a thud back on the gurney when it's apparent he can't fully coordinate his own limbs.

Movements slow, Peter regards him fondly but doesn't say anything, just relishes the sight of Neal awake and talking. Feeling the knot inside his stomach loosening, he turns to the young agent standing in the corner, eyeing Neal wearily. "So, what happened?"

"They had guns Peter! Really big… guns!" Neal interjects loudly, before Agent Segal can even open his mouth.

Peter stifles a laugh, gaze falling away to regroup before answering. "Really big ones, huh?"

"Shots were fired." Segal steps forward and answers calmly, jumping in before Neal can respond. "Neal got caught in the crossfire."

He looks exhausted, but a night's stake out with a hyperactive and unentertained Neal can do that to anyone so Peter doesn't read too much into it at this stage.

"And?" He points at Neal with his eye's.

Neal catches the movement despite his unbalanced state. "I sawed  _that_!"

"You," Peter glares at him, hands on hips, "shut it." He mimes zipping his mouth, not releasing his gaze until Neal drops his first.

Segal blinks, eyes the two of them with a mixture of surprise and confusion, and maybe a hint of misgiving, but says nothing. "I don't know what  _this_ ," arms folded he turns to face Neal,"- is about. He was lucid when they loaded him into the ambulance. EMTs brought him in and I followed once the scene was secured. They said they only gave him something to manage the pain and keep him calm, but either they gave him too much or…" He ends with a shrug.

"Neal's never done too well on drugs," Peter turns pointedly to eye Neal himself, "have you?"

Neal offers him a dazzling smile.

"I'll bare that in mind." Segal says neutrally.

The three of them drop into silence, Peter contemplating near misses he's no longer around for, Segal revaluating the amount of work required in keeping this particular C.I out of trouble and Neal doing what Neal does best- planning his escape. In a split second he's up and jumping off the narrow bed. Peter catches him on reflex, no thought or plan required, his arms are wrapped around the kid's torso before either man can process exactly what happened.

" _Peterrr_ …?" Neal, pressed with his back against Peter's chest, fidgets in his grasp.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" His tone is hard, challenging and broking no room for argument or bullshit.

"Away." Neal wobbles, hearing the anger in Peter's voice for himself and reacting instinctively to the perceived slight. "I'm done!" He looks to Segal. "Tell him!" The hiccup following that order softens the impact some.

Segal shakes his head, a gesture that suggests he's questioning his own sanity at this point. "The bullet wasn't a direct hit, just grazed his clavicle." He sighs heavily. "Nothing to keep him in for, we were waiting on his release papers when you arrived."

"See." Neal grins proudly up at Peter, tilting his head back to rest against his shoulder.

Neal tries to walk away, but without support his knees very quickly buckle beneath him. From the sheer luck of his hold remaining in place Peter catches him under the arms, and after a split second's contemplation he decides to be nice and risk the back pain. Peter roughly drags Neal back towards the bed, lifting and dropping him butt first onto the thin rubber mattress.

Pinning him with a hand either side Peter looks him straight in the eye and lays the law down once again. "You are not going nowhere until I speak to a doctor, got it?"

"Fine." Neal grits his teeth and huffs sulkily, blowing air through his lips in a failed attempt at a raspberry.

Peter leans back with a heavy groan. "Neal, you're high. I know the kind of trouble you can get in sober. I don't want to think about what might happen with what little self-preservation instincts you usually possess absent."

Neal scoffs, but failing to come up with an argument silently stares at his now swinging feet, thus proving Peter's point that he isn't exactly thinking straight. A thought that irritates Neal even more.

"Agent Burke?" Segal interrupts with a tap to Peter's shoulder, indicating the corridor beyond the curtain.

"Stay here." Peter taps Neal gently on the cheek, taking the sting out of his tone only slightly. "Do not move."

Neal makes a noise sounding suspiciously like a woof. Peter's tempted to pull out handcuffs but since this isn't the Howser clinic and the act would cause more than just Segal to ask questions, he resists.

"Agent," he says once on the other side of the curtain. "You're off the clock. You can go home."

"I was going to say the same to you." Segal pauses, and takes another couple of steps back, creating as much distance as possible between them and the exam cubicle housing Neal. "I can handle Caffrey sir." He says in a low whisper. "You don't need to be here."

Peter smiles indulgently. "I know you can. And at work that's fine, you're his handler, that's why I brought you in. But," he pauses, shakes his head, "this isn't work."

"It isn't?" Segal doesn't look convinced, and although as ASAC he really doesn't have to explain himself, he'd rather set the record straight now than have him assuming something else later.

"Am I worried what he might get up to? Absolutely." Peter's mind can't then help but bombard him with all the crazy crap Neal could get up to in his current state. "But I'm also worried about him in general. Neal hates guns, he's been scared." Instinctually his gaze turns to the gap in the curtain and sure enough he can see Neal sitting exactly where he left him, head down, legs swinging. He's whole body screaming vulnerability. "He needs a friend. That's still my role,  _that's_  why I need to be here."

That  _is_  why he's there, Peter realises the truth in his words. He may not be there to witness those near misses that can happen from time to time regardless of who's running the op, but he can still be there after to handle the fallout. His role at work may have changed, but that doesn't mean his one at home had to as well.

Slipping back inside the curtained area after sending Segal home and speaking to Neal's doctor Peter's more than ready to call it a night. He half expected to find an empty space where Neal once was, but in his second surprise of the night – his first being the call from Jones letting him know Caffrey was in the hospital to begin with – Neal was exactly where he'd left him. Exactly.

"You okay?" Peter steps forward with urgency, logically assuming the only reason for Neal doing as he's told being because he couldn't do much else. "You in pain?" There're tears visible in his eyes and Peter's declaration to Segal that he can handle this takes a sudden blow. "Neal, hey talk to me."

Neal sees and hears the panic. Now on any normal day Peter being patronising, physically laying hands on him to put him where he wants him and generally treating him like a misbehaving six-year-old would earn him some retribution. But today wasn't a normal day and with all the changes that have happened recently, whether others considered them good or bad was irrelevant. Neal didn't like change out of  _his_ control. Running away was how he used to handle any situation not to his liking. That was no longer an option. For so many reasons. When Peter showed up, drugs or no drugs Neal would have been just as ecstatic. Now Peter's looking and sounding lost and unsure, he can't handle that. So, the second he's in grabbing distance Neal leaps forward, wraps both arms around his older friend's neck and holds on for dear life.

"Hey," Peter says softy, instinctively returning the hug "what's this all about?"

Neal doesn't answer and doesn't let go. Peter looks around to see if anyone is nearby but the curtains are still closed, cutting them off from the action of the main corridor. Feeling the body relax in his arms Peter puts his thinking cap on and mentally goes over all the reasons he can for why Neal would cling to him and not let go.

He could only come up with one.

"Okay," he announces in an easy sigh, adjusting his stance to lean more against the side of the bed. "It's been a crazy few months hasn't it?" Neal still doesn't move but then Peter's not expecting him to. "There's been a lot of changes," he runs the hand resting on Neal's shoulder up and down the narrow spine. "But change is good, keeps things fresh." Peter feels Neal tense and pressing his face further into his shoulder. "But what's important about family - our family- is that never changes. I'll always be here for you, no matter what." He waits for a reaction, movement, something.

"You do realise I'm not 10." Neal mumbles, hot breath brushing Peter's neck.

Peter chuckles, shaking Neal in his arms with his own movement. "I do." However, he says nothing about the fact the continued clinging and face hiding suggests otherwise.

"I'm off my face on Xanax and you're taking advantage." Neal counters, reading his mind.

Laughter reawakened Peter presses his lips to the side of Neal's temple and lets him go. "Come on." He waits at the side of the bed, one hand lightly supporting his upper arm.

Neal eyes him suspiciously, gaze narrow and assessing. Peter isn't fooled but allows him to engage whatever coping mechanism is needed to exit the hospital.

"I'm going home?" the watery blue eyes seem to widen of their own accord, highlighting an inability to maintain a façade for very long.

Peter waits a beat before answering. "Of sorts." Neal frowns, looking completely confused. "You, my kid, are coming home with me. You're in no state to look after yourself."

Without further pause he pulls Neal off the bed and to his feet, consuming him in a whirlwind of activity. Before he realises what's happened Neal is out of the hospital and safely detained in Peter's car.

"That's good."

"What's good?" Peter asks, just settling into the driver's seat himself and clipping in Neal's seat belt for him.

"Going home." Neal answers simply, offering Peter his lesser seen shy smile that only ever gets an outing whenever he's generally and unconditionally happy about something.

Peter looks him in the eye, poised with his hand on his own seat belt. "That is good."

And with that final statement of what constituted "good" in these two very different men's lives, Peter fastens his own seat belt and pulls out of the hospital parking lot, heading for home.


	19. Running is a State of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different approach here. Hope you like it :) Set during the S3 episode 'where there's a will'

Neal's always been a big fan of reinvention. Businesses and Celebrities, they do it all the time to reshape their 'brand'. It's 'innovate or die' when your whole livelihood rests on your image. And the same applies to conmen.

Now don't misunderstand, Neal didn't set out to mislead people into giving them what he's wants. He'd pretty much been doing it his whole life without ever realising it was considered wrong. As a child all he had do was smile and more often than not his teacher or his neighbour or even the bus driver would be happy to help with whatever it was he needed from them. There were of course those completely immune to his charms. Ellen never gave into him - well almost never. And then there was his mom...

Theirs's was a complicated relationship. As he grew up, they slowly grew apart. He considers himself to have been a selfish child, one who more often than not didn't think about  _why_  she sometimes didn't want to get up or leave her bedroom, let alone the house. To him she had no reason to wallow in her sanctuary when there was a big world out there to explore.

Neal always wanted to travel, his earliest memories are of running, just running down the street, wind in his hair and sun on his back, imagining heading to some far-off paradise full of wonders for his taking. And take he did. Whenever he got the opportunity. He wasn't a petty thief. Only once did he take a candy bar from the local store. It wasn't because he particularly liked the candy, or because he was hungry. He'd done it because he could. Saw his moment and challenged himself. At seven years old the thrill of not being caught was amazing! Of course, looking back, had he known the store keeper was drunk most afternoons and he wouldn't have woken up if a crane had crashed through the ceiling and grabbed up all the candy bars like one of those arcade machines, then he might not have given himself such a pat on the back. What that one experience lead to however, stopping by the pool hall on his way home from school for example, it became a way of life. To him, it was who he was.

Mostly the things he did, both as a child and adult he viewed as harmless. A lot of his so-called victims – well let's say as far as Neal was concerned, they started it. Those he conned out of their money or possessions had either stolen it themselves in the first place or had no concept of what it meant to have such a treasure. Again, looking back Neal can see why Peter doesn't always agree with him. Thanks to working with – not against - the FBI, he's gained an appreciation for the work they do and grudgingly recognises there is no such thing as a 'victimless crime'. He still maintains it's wholly unfair that it's apparently  _not stealing_  when rich men do it, as he'd shared with Julianna upon returning her grandmothers painting that day. But his experience of being the reason Linsey Gless was kidnapped from her home, all because Wilkes wanted to take revenge on him, that also wasn't fair. His association with her father, his crime and criminal contacts was the only reason a young woman was nearly killed. That selfish child he was, still is to some extent, is learning being a criminal is not such a good way to be. And he's learning that mostly from Peter.

 _Peter._  Who he's planning on leaving high and dry to face the consequences. Not of his own actions, but of Neal's. Because that's how the FBI work. He  _knows_ that. No use pretending he doesn't. Neal is going to break the law again by running and Peter's going to take the fall. Just like Linsey Gless and her father.

Neal freezes in his scrutiny of what deep down he knows will never truly be his, recognising that familiar, uncomfortable sensation stirring somewhere below his diaphragm. Mozzie wantshim to give up the FBI, his deal and more importantly Peter. Mozzie wants them to go live the dream and bag that final score. Peter wants him to stay. To live his life like Peter has learnt to live his. With respect for his fellow man, even if said fellow is a double-crossing liar or murderer.

Mozzie. Peter. Both are his friends, both want him to make different choices and neither seem inclined to meet in the middle. Just once he'd like to be asked what  _he wants_ , instead of them presuming what's best for him. That way maybe he'd feel able to tell the truth more often instead of conning people into his way of thinking.

If only.

Mozzie's and Peter's stark difference of opinion of what's best for him is not the first time Neal's sat back and thought 'if only' either.

 _If only_  Mozzie hadn't stolen the treasure.

 _If only_  Mozzie hadn't shared with him he had the treasure.

 _If only_  Peter hadn't accused him of stealing the treasure before Neal knew it was stolen and interrogated him as if he already believed he had stolen it!

Slamming the laptop shut and pushing it away, those two little words repeat in his head.  _If only_.

But Mozzie did and Peter did and Neal feels hurt and he wants Peter to hurt too. He wants Peter to know how difficult it is  _not_  to steal or mislead or maintain the upper hand at all cost day after day after day. He wants Peter to feel the same pain in his stomach and tightness in chest he feels each time Peter makes clear his disappointment in him - a feeling Neal was completely unfamiliar with before Peter he'll have you know! But, above all else, Neal wants to know, no matter how badly he behaves, no matter what mistakes he makes, that Peter won't give up on him.

He meant what he said during the architect case. He really doesn't want to run anymore.

What was once a bold move of empowerment, a romantic notion that he could change his life for the better has become his go to response to any problem that comes his way. Neal runs when he's scared. Because as long as he's running, he's in control, he's calling the shots and to hell with anyone who tries to tell him otherwise. If his heart is breaking for those he's left behind, that's okay, because he's the one choosing to break it – not them. Never them. No one can hurt him if he leaves them first.

Always acting on impulse and being committed to keeping the status quo until a better plan comes to mind, Neal gets on with his task of forging a flimsy Interpol I.D so he can find out what the art crime agent knows. Peter wouldn't approve, but it's the only way see? Only by holding all the right cards can Neal ensure he wins the game. And first prize is being able to stay in New York with Peter and still have Mozzie by his side.

Re-invention is fine. Reinvention can keep something alive. But running isn't reinvention. It's escaping from your problems, it's letting the fear of loss and of love control you. True reinvention means facing what scares you and for Neal that's giving up control, it's stepping out of his comfort zone and opening himself up to the possibility of failure.

Unfortunately for Neal, being a fan of reinvention, doesn't make him good at it. I.D in his pocket, ready to make his way to the hotel to intercept Agent Mathews, Neal checks himself in the mirror before heading for the door. He may not be doing the right thing, but he's doing it for the right reasons.

Peter would understand that, right?


	20. Five times that changed everything - Peter's POV

**April 2009**

I don't know how it started.

At first it was just a business deal. I help him, he helps me. Caffrey was a sneaky son of a bitch and I didn't doubt he had an ulterior motive. If he wanted something, he'd find a way to have it, and more. It was probably the most important thing I learnt about him over our three-year chase. _Impulsive, arrogant, smart_  - words which summed up Neal Caffrey quite nicely. The concept of making do, of being happy with his lot and content having a dream, even if it's never realised, didn't register in that over active juvenile brain of his.

Of course, what I've learnt since working with him, not just because of him, is that Neal is also shy, loyal and oh so desperate to be loved.  _Hence Kate._ Neal spent those three years and nine months in prison for  _her_. He did his time for  _her_  and the promise of a clean break. Didn't mean he'd actually achieve it, but Neal was clever enough that once sentence free, though I'm sure I'd always be able to find him, I'd most definitely struggle to prove his guilt. Despite the long list of 'alleged' crimes I only managed to nail him on the bonds the first time around and given Neal's track record that's probably all I'll ever prove.

Going back to our deal. Like Neal, I had something to gain. Just the thought of how many high-profile crimes I could solve digging around that criminal little mind of his made me giddy, not to mention filling the gaps in his allusive personal history. The chance to find out what made guys like Neal tick was too good to pass up, so of course I agreed to the anklet. It was something never tried before. Not like this. Not with someone like Neal, a con artist and flight risk.

As it turned out, despite the urge to find Kate, Neal never did stray outside of his radius. Not to the point of actually making a run for it. It was always my first fear when leaving him alone. Those first few days I was on edge 24/7 just waiting for the call. Then after the Dutchman I knew. I knew this thing could work.

It hasn't been all roses mind, Neal's caused about as much trouble as he's solved crimes since I got him out. 'It's Elle's fault' I tell myself on those days when I find myself questioning my own judgement – and sanity. After all Elle was the one who had asked, ever so sweetly, if I wouldn't have broken out of jail for her. I said I wouldn't be in jail in the first place, because I grew up to be an adult with an adult sense of right and wrong and appropriate levels of impulse control.

I don't care how old he claims to be, Neal's a boy in a man's body, a boy yet to develop any such attributes of manhood. Whatever influence he lacked growing up, I think somewhere in my mind I decided I could fix it -  _fix him_.

And that, that is when I realised I subconsciously planted the seed in my own mind. Right at the very beginning. I saw a chance.

.

**August 2009**

I nearly died and Neal, he was scared really scared. I was so glad he was there. But I couldn't let him choose me over Kent. In the end a life is a life and I hope to god Neal sees why that is so important. Why  _he_ is so important. If I dismissed Kent's right to life because of his crimes, then the same rules would apply to Neal.

.

**February 2010**

The hug was a real surprise.

I've hugged Neal plenty of times since he's been working with me. In nine months, the kid has gone from annoying C.I. to annoying best friend. After the plane exploded, after I nearly lost him that day, I realised how much he meant to me personally, how far I was willing to go for him. I can't imagine him not being there anymore. Strangely it wasn't a surprise. It felt perfectly normal to care so damn much. That's what living and breathing the moves of Neal Caffrey does for you, the four years he spent in prison didn't eradicate any of the previous three.

So, I've hugged Neal plenty. After his first near miss with a gun under my care I squeezed him so tight I thought the kid might pop. He didn't get it then, how watching him get hurt actually hurt me. But Neal has not to my recollection initiated a hug with me… until today. And today the shoe was on the other foot for a change, in more ways than one. This time I was the one in trouble and needed his help to get out of it. When he came charging in I knew by the look in his eyes what was coming and opened my arms immediately. The way he held on, it was as if he was the one who needed the comfort. I guess he was. Neal must have been really scared to let his guard down like that, especially in front of Jones and Diana. I could feel him shaking as he pulled away, fear or adrenaline I couldn't be sure, but whatever caused the reaction it was then that I realised - this thing between us, it's a two-way street. It isn't just me worrying about Neal and Neal not giving a damn. I mean something to him. I'm no longer just his ticket out of jail, his easy ride back into the life of getting everything he wants. That hug proves he cares about me too. That he too can't imagine life without me in it. It was the best gift he could have given me and he doesn't have a clue he gave it.

.

**September 2010**

Neal's gone. Really gone this time and I sent him. I know it was the right thing to do but my god it hurts. I miss him, I'm worried about him. I need to find him. It's irrational I know, he's a grown man and he's been on own his own since a teenager, if anyone knows how to look after themselves its Neal. So why the hell am I in a constant state of anxiety, fearing everything because I'm not there to protect him?

.

**April 2011**

I take Neal home with me after James makes his quick exit. I don't trust the man not to come back later, just to twist the knife of doubt in a little more. What father does that to their child? While passing himself off as someone who on her death bed Ellen told Neal to trust, James worked on systematically destroying the kids support network. Pulling apart the life he'd built by separating him from his friend's, breaking the fragile trust he gave rarely and convincing him to do only what he told him to. All the while dangling the hope of learning about his father just out of reach, enough to keep him interested and under his control. Those aren't the actions of a father wanting to reconnect with his son. Those are the actions of a classic domestic abuser who's willing to do anything, use anyone, to assert control and get what he wants.

"Thinking hard?"

I blink, "What?" and look up to find El leaning over me.

"You look like your heads going to explode. What's wrong?" She slides onto the couch cushions next to me.

"I was just thinking." I sigh, refocusing on the game still playing on the TV.

"About Neal."

"About James." I take in her surprise. Grab the remote and flick off the set with a single button push. "I catch criminals every day. I deal with some really despicable people, but I just can't find a good reason for James to lie to Neal the way he did."

"A good reason?" She sounds amused.

"Yeah, I mean lying is wrong but sometimes people are scared of the truth. I can understand that. What I don't understand is if all James wanted was to find his son why try and isolate him. Why turn his life upside down to gain control?"

"You think James is after something from Neal."

"Ellen reached out to Sam. James never told her he wasn't him either. I get him wanting to find her killers but this isn't about that."

"Before you knew he was James, you thought he might be one of the corrupt cops Ellen had evidence on-"

"If Ellen was sure James was innocent she'd have reached out."

"Have you talked with Neal?"

"You mean have I told him his Dad could be using him to get the evidence of his guilt?" I stare at her, eyebrows near jumping off my face.

"Yeah I see what you mean." El thinks. "But I thought you said James pleaded guilty already, isn't that how Neal ended up in Witsec?"

"He pleaded guilty to murder and turned state evidence against the Flynn's," I nod. "But if Ellen's evidence is solid and there was systemic corruption within law enforcement it means James lied, he didn't give the full story. His deal could be void. Depending what's in there, he could get the maximum."

"You think he's okay?" El directs her gaze upward.

"He's in shock." And really who wouldn't be? "Kid tried to put on a brave face, but" I flashback a few hours, "he was just so lost."

"What did you do?"

"I hugged him." I smile at the memory, though there's nothing about finding out your father's a lying bastard to smile about. "Or rather he hugged me. Thought he was going to knock me over with how fast he came at me."

Elle's face softens, eyes crinkling around the edges. A rare mixture of sweetness and pity. "You'll always be the one he runs to, you know that, right?"

A little knot of tension unfurls at her words, how she knew I was feeling more than a little resentful of James, before even I could put a label on it, I don't know, but she's right. I'm scared what James' arrival in Neal's life will bring. I want to be happy for him, I do, and honestly can't say my mistrust isn't based on jealously. I've been responsible for Neal for two years, but I've been looking out for him for a lot longer. Everything I've done since I got to know him was to help him, keep him safe. That's what I told Ellen the first time we spoke and I meant it.

Make or break time, I need to get this out or it'll eat me alive. "Is it wrong that I want to fill that role in Neal's life?"

I stare into her eyes and her smile lights the room. "You already do, but I think there's room in his life for both of you."

"I'm not sure Neal's going to warm up to the idea." After what James pulled? If it were me I doubt I'd be very forgiving.

"Then you need to help him. That's what a father would do. Whatever James' motivations, Neal won't get the answers he needs if he doesn't hear him out."

"Okay." I nod, memories of my own father straying unbidden into my mind. "I'll do my best."

I'm about to suggest we head up to bed when there's a creek on the stairs and a sleepy, barely conscious Neal appears about half way down.

"Neal honey, you okay?" Elle calls out.

I study him, watch the one hand rubbing half open, still tired eyes. His hair's sticking up at odd angles which suggests he's been to sleep at least. Taking note of the flushed cheeks and fine sheen of sweat on his forehead I conclude his waking wasn't natural. Neal doesn't answer Elle and I feel her tension where my arm is resting across the back of the sofa, touching her shoulders. Leaning in without saying a word, she knows what I'm asking when I give her a light kiss. I stand first, and meet Neal on the stairs, who's still not moved one way or the other. Taking him by the arm I quickly turn him around, guiding him back up. Meanwhile Elle picks up our glasses and heads for the kitchen.

"Be right up hon," she calls, helpfully letting me and Neal know we've got as long as it takes her to set the dish washer to talk without her.

"Come on," I nudge Neal, who's still yet to speak, knuckle still wedged in his left eye socket.

I walk him into the guest bedroom adjacent from ours. He shuffles across the hard wood floors in socked feet but stops shy of actually climbing into bed. I stand in the doorway watching him. "You going to be okay?"

"Hmmm." He nods.

Not his most eloquent response. I've certainly heard him do better.

"Neal," I walk up to him, look him in half lidded eyes and take in his state. "Neal?"

He's conning me. I'm sure of it. He's the picture of sleep, near dead on his feet. But then if that were the case why did he make his way downstairs? Why was he now not getting into bed? I step further into his personal space, mere inches apart. What I hadn't noticed before that I do now is the way his chest is heaving.

"Hey, come on kid, talk to me." I take him in my arms.

Neal stiffens, doesn't lift his head or seem to wake up anymore but I know he's listening. Holding him I can feel not only how warm he is but also how fast his heart is beating.

"You have a nightmare?" I guess, because what else could it be?

Neal nods against my shoulder, I go on to ask about what but he shrugs. I'm inclined to believe him, he seems honestly confused and it's likely that confusion that lead him to come downstairs to find us. Mystery solved we make quick work of getting him back into bed and I flick the light off leaving the door slightly ajar.

…

Next thing I'm aware of it's about an hour or so later. I wake from sleep, the feeling of being watched pulling me to alertness. Elle's lying at my side, her soft breaths hitting my chest so I know it's not her. Opening my eyes, I'm greeted with darkness. Trying not to make it obvious I'm awake I lift my head slowly, clocking movement at the door.

"Neal?"

He doesn't answer but I know it's him standing there, hovering in the doorway.

"Neal what's wrong?"

He just stands there, leaning against the door frame. This time his hands are pulling down on his borrowed t-shirt, twisting it around his fingers so it's misshapen at the front.

"You struggling to sleep?" I try to gage the situation. Do I need to get up or can a few kind words encourage him back to bed?

I get a nod to my question, which is progress I guess. Untangling myself from Elle takes longer than anticipated but I manage to get up, walk Neal back into his room, settle him back in bed without a word and return to my own bed, collapsing in a bone-weary heap.

…

There's a cold hand on my arm. I snap my eyes open to see Neal standing over me, breathing heavy and noisy and looking in complete despair. Another nightmare. Too tired to try and work out what he wants me to do about it I shuffle over as far as I can. Elle moving in her sleep to accommodate me. I flip the duvet back and pat the space created. Neal bites his lip and stares at me, hand working his t-shirt again.

"Neal stopping messing around."

I close my eyes to indicate his limited choice. Neal gets with the programme climbs in and I cover us both with the duvet, taking the risk of wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. It doesn't feel weird even though it probably should. Neal isn't a big guy; his frame narrow and slim. Right now, I really don't care I just want to sleep.

Neal doesn't wake up again. I get to sleep until morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To odd? not what you expected whatsoever? I wrote this ages ago and really, it was post or delete - and I do so hate cleaning up.


	21. Peter, Neal & a bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A missing scene from the season 5 episode 'shot through the heart'. Not much of a revelation, more of a remembering ;)

 

"Shots fired! Everyone down."

Running across the room I don't think, I can't. Cliched though it maybe, I swear my life flashed before my eyes in the moment between hearing the glass shatter and seeing Neal drop.

"Neal! Are you hit?" I pull at his clothes, pat down his sides, run my fingers through that gelled hair. For a second, I'm distracted by my how un-sticky they are before refocusing on the situation at hand.

"Peter, Peter!"

"Huh?"

Looking down I find Neal is on his knees, my arms are over and around his back, holding him close. One hand fixed on his head, keeping him lower than the window.

"I'm fine." He sighs and groans at the same time, twisting to sit with his back to the wall, legs outstretched. "It missed me."

My gaze travels the length of his arm, from the shoulder down until it detects the torn fabric. Blood is visible.

"Take it off."

"What?"

"The jacket Neal," I snap, in no mood for games, "off."

"Okay, okay," he quickly complies, struggling with the cuffs, "but like I said it's nothing."

_A low swoosh, a body falling backwards, blood spurting and then oozing like a river along the side walk._

That's where my mind is. On a loop.

Only it's not that waste of space Hagen having his insides on the outside decorating the Brooklyn street, it's Neal.  _My_  Neal. The one only two days ago I had been ready to leave behind like dust in the wind. Prepared to cut the ties that literally bind us and leave this part of my life behind.

….

"See?" I show Peter my arm, the blood stain around it fixed and drying, not growing with fresh flowing redness by the Nano second. "Stings is all."

I'm about to complain about the loss of my designer shirt. One of the few I'd brought myself over the years, when  _wham!_  My words are cut off, air expelled from my lungs in a gust and a splutter.

"Don't  _ever_ do that again." He enunciates each syllable, adding a little squeeze.

"Do  _what_?" I squeak, instinctively latching onto Peter's Jacket. It's there and suddenly I feel the need to be certain I am too. "I didn't  _do_  anything."

I didn't do anything. I really didn't. Not this time. And I'm still getting shot at!

Did nothing apart from stealing a window from a church, burning a priceless piece of literature and lying to my best friend…

I squeeze Peter a little tighter, my eye lids copying the action. I didn't  _mean_  to do anything! I really, really didn't!

"Hey," Peter's warm breath passes my ear, "it's okay, I got you."

Jesus, how does he do it? He's the one who started freaking out and being over protective, and somehow, I end up the one needing a fucking hug to hold it together.

"I'm-" I push away…

"Bull shit."

And get pulled right back in again.

"-fine."

His arms are strong and frankly, after the roller-coaster we've been on the last few days, it's nice to feel the warmth of him around me once more, nice to know despite everything that's happened, that's been said and left unsaid, I'm still wanted. Even if being wanted is the last thing I  _should_  want right now. The bullet graze, a stark reminder of how dangerous that desire is, throbs incessantly, maybe I'm not fine after all...

…

He's fine.  _Fine?_ Ha! It doesn't take a mastermind to realise Neal's holding onto to me as tight as I'm holding onto him. I'm just surprised he's not trying harder to con me. I know Neal better than I know myself some days. Quite frankly he's as far from fine as he's ever been and honestly… so am I.

The air that passes out of my lungs in one heavy sigh is audible even to my ears. "Why do we always end up learning the hard way?"

My question is directed at the wall, but Jones is the one to answer.

"Maybe because you're both stubborn sons of bitches?" His smooth and natural delivery eliminates the sting of the words, and following up with a grin he asks, "you guys okay?"

I turn my gaze towards him. "We need EMS, Neal's been shot."

"It's just a graze." Neal mumbles over my shoulder, making no move to…well,  _move_.

I shake my head at Jones. He returns it with a nod of his own and backs out of the room, smartly shutting the door behind him.

"Neal?"

" _Peter_ "

I huff. I can be the grownup here. Hell, I am the grown here. "I love you so much, but I seriously want to strangle you sometimes." I move so my chin rests atop of his head after that confession.

I don't get a clear verbal reply. A squeeze and relaxing of the body leaning against mine is all the return I'm probably going to get. It's what I'm used to. Always the conman never the con after all. Neal's lived his life on the defensive. Constantly protecting himself from the risk of being taken advantage of, avoiding making connections beyond what can be seen on the surface.

But then –

"I love you too."

\- slips out.

I freeze. The words are muffled, but they're there. A surprise and massive step in the right direction. I'm still trying to process when he continues,

"Always have."


	22. Borrowed Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag to S6 episode 1 – Borrowed time. Rebecca's dead, Neal goes missing. Peter finds him. The end.

 

Peter walks back through the glass double doors on the 21st floor, leaving the US Marshals to contain and process the bloody scene outside.

"Neal come in here?" He asks the nearest agents, pointing at the empty desk.

He gets shaking heads all round. Thinking, worried and frustrated, Peter walks back out, checks all his charges usual hiding places. He finally finds him sitting on the dusty floor of the less often used copier room one floor down.

"Neal?" Peter flicks on the light, but nothing happens. "What are doing in here, in the dark?"

"No one uses paper anymore." Neal tells him simply with a shrug, turning his head towards Peter ever so slightly, a slither of light from the hallway touching his cheeks.

"Or replaces bulbs." Peter quips, flicking the switch repeatedly, as if expecting a different result each time. He does eventually give up with a heavy sigh. "So?"

Neal raises his eyebrows. "So?"

"What are you doing down here?"

There's a noise which sounds to Peter's ears like a cross between a sob and a chuckle. Neither he would normally associate with Neal, but right now, given all that's happened in the last hour, not to mention the previous twenty-four, anything goes.

Neal blinks rapidly to clear his vision and changes the subject. "Hey what about you. Shouldn't you be on your way to Washington?"

Peter levels him with a look. "Yeah, you know what? This guy I know, real pain in the ass, he got kidnapped."

They share a smile. Neal's is shy. Peter's full of sorrow. As always a chasm a mile wide between them.

"I really am proud of you, I want you to know that." He tells him sincerely. Hoping these words will erase those he spoke in anger only days ago.

Neal looks timid, staring up at him through damp lashes. "Even after, you know," he tips his head to the side, "everything?"

The uncertainty he hears in his voice, sees in his eyes and his actions are upsetting. Peter fights the urge to run, to leave Neal to rebuild himself in private so they can move forward and forget this mess ever happened. But Peter's never been a runner. He faces his troubles, his demons. Unlike Neal, who's never stood up and fought to keep what he has. Reinvention is his game, pretending his coping mechanism. Its selfish Peter tells himself, to want his friend back the way he remembers. As the impulsive and exuberant child who will always need someone, always need Peter to look out for him, to pull him out of the messes he falls into because he doesn't look before he leaps, because pretending means he doesn't learn from his mistakes.

Jones was right, it is time Neal took responsibility for himself, but for that to happen Peter will need to teach him.

"I'm proud that although you clearly struggle to understand the concept of right and wrong, I know you always try to do the right thing."

In a span of seconds Neal's no longer hiding in the corner of the room, doing his best Nosferatu impression. He's heading straight for him.

"Oh, okay," Peter stumbles backward, arms suddenly full of a trembling wreck of a kid who has come to mean the world to him.

"I'm sorry." Cold hands wrap tight around his neck.

Hugging Neal back with a force as strong as magnet on steel he says the only thing he can to say, "It's going to be okay, Neal. We're going to be okay."

….

Peter always finds him. He should be used to that certainty in his life by now. Neal hadn't planned on running at him like a lost toddler, scared out of his mind, but damn it he's not slept in over forty-eight hours, pulled off one of the most daring heists of his illicitly illustrious career and just really, really needs a hug right now.

Peter hugs back and holds him steady. Always his rock. Neal's legs wobble and he's sure he'd fall if Peter let him go. But Peter has to let him go eventually. He's going to Washington and Neal is being left behind.

The thought slams him. Hard. An explosion of pain inside his chest, rattling his rib cage. He can usually hide his feelings pretty well, Dr Summers had called it when she said he doesn't like anyone to see his vulnerabilities. Partly why she flustered him so much. Taking her money was as much a 'fuck you' to her as it was a way to get Mozzie out of his place. He did feel guilty for losing Mozzie his real name, but that whole mess was another story, one he can't think about right now. Right now, all he can think is Peter is leaving and Neal hurts so much at the thought he doesn't want to ever let him go.

His tears start off silent, building with intensity as the feeling of imminent loss swirls inside of him, the hurt and physical pain increasing tenfold the longer it goes on. One sob is preceded by another and to stop the humiliating noise Neal presses his face into Peter's shoulder, tightening his grip on the lapels of the suit bunched in his hands. One warm palm covers his neck and Neal flinches under the touch. Relaxing incrementally as it makes its way lower and settles into gently rubbing his back.

It's only when the rocking starts that Neal knows he has to get his shit together.

"I'm sorry, sorry. I'm so sorry." He pulls away. Or tries at least.

Peter pulls him back in, squeezing him tight and stroking his hair. "You're okay." He repeats the phrase again.

"No, I'm not." Neal lifts his head, slowly this time, but doesn't pull out of his hold. "I'm a mess."

"Neal Caffrey can have an imperfect moment. I won't tell anyone."

Neal wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "You won't tell anyone because they'll be no one who knows me in Washington to tell." He meant it sarcastically, but it came off needy and desperate.

Gaze averted to the floor it hasn't escaped Neal's notice that Peter is still holding him. He wonders what they must look like, but thoughts of what other people might think are far from his mind. All he can think is Peter's leaving and this will be the last memory he has of their friendship.

Peter levels him with a look. "Actually, as it happens, I'm not going to Washington."

Neal's head snaps up instinctively, hands coming up between them and succeeding in pushing them apart. "Why? Peter, is it because of me? Are you in trouble because of me?"

…

Neal words fall out in a rush. The worry is adorable and reaffirms the fact that despite everything Neal's pulled, deep down he really does care a hell of a lot about the people in his life. But despite the utter cuteness of this whole messy affair, Peter doesn't leave him hanging.

"No, nothing like that." He smiles softly, a small part of him mourning the life that should have been, had Neal been granted his freedom as Peter promised. "I decided not to go." He pauses, watches the worry turn to confusion. "Now don't read too much into this-"

"You stayed for me?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "Why do you always have to ruin the surprise?" It was an attempt to bring some joviality to their conversation, but the tears increasing in Neal's eyes suggest he missed the mark.

Peter reaches out to squeeze Neal's arm but instead ends up with Neal slamming into his chest once again, the one being squeezed. A breathy  _thank you_  is whispered into his ear and suddenly any lingering doubts Peter had about his decision fade away. Now he just has to tell him about El.


	23. Peter, Hughes & the pissed off Canadians

 

Missing scene from the Pilot -

_Peter: "What's got the belt and suspender boys all riled up?"_

_Diana: "You."_

 

"Burke."

Peter had only just pushed through the double glass doors of the 21st floor when Hughes commands him into his office with the double finger point. It's only with a slight sense of trepidation he enters. Mostly he's just feeling excitement. The frill of discovering something previously undiscovered and another feeling, something closer to… pride? Not in himself, that's too conceited, he's proud and the feeling is wrong somehow, because he realises, he's proud of  _Neal_. It's a confusing feeling. A sense of wrong and yet right. It's that confusion which has him walking into the unexpected meeting preoccupied and therefore unprepared for the voice of the Canadian Secret Service Agent demanding answers.

"Who is he?"

Peter blinks, resets, giving away nothing. "Who's who?"

Hughes isn't impressed with his dumb act and neither is the Agent.

"Agent Burke, that fibre is highly classified. I want your source. It's a matter of national security."

Peter keeps his expression flat and looks to Hughes. He says nothing, just stares back at him, letting him make the call. The fact Hughes hasn't just given the SS Agent Neal's already name means there's more to it, or something he doesn't like. Peter doesn't like it either. There's a surge of protectiveness flowing through him, Peter wants to play ignorant and pretend he doesn't know why he'd feel protective of Neal Caffrey. In fact, he'd really rather not think about it.

"Best get that fixed." He heaves a sigh.

" _What?_ "

"The leak. Best get it fixed."

The agent boils. Turns to Hughes, "Sir-"

"That's enough Agent Carlson…" Reese holds out a placating hand. "This is an active case and we'll share whatever is pertinent as soon as we confirm the details."

Carlson's gaze boils, sending his face red, but he takes the hint and leaves, albeit in a huff. Taking most of the tension in the room with him.

"Burke?"

"Yes Sir?" Peter snaps his gaze back around, having watched to ensure the pissed off Canadian left the floor.

"Something you want to share with me?"

The tension is back, but it's of the kind he's used to. Reese is a fair man, but an even fairer boss. He tolerates no fools and trusts his Agents to be honest with him.

"Not yet." It's the truth, no one can ask for more than that.

"When?"

Peter mulls that over. "I have a meeting to keep."


	24. Jones' Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jones thoughts on Peter and Neal's relationship rift during the season 5 episode 'Live Feed.'

Jones considers himself a strong agent. He has good skills. Is a positive member of the team. He doesn't need his ego stroking every ten seconds. Doesn't need recognition or patting on the head and being told he's a good boy. Most importantly, he knows the world does not revolve around  _him_.

Which is why, when things in the office shift and change, the atmosphere frosty - not unlike the time immediately after the U-boat warehouse went up in smoke - Jones waits and bides his time, stays the ground until the right moment comes along. And when it does, in the form of a suspected art forgery, that's when Clinton decides to make his move.

He has to admit, initially he'd been frustrated with Burke's treatment of someone who he had instilled in all of them to think of as their teammate. The very idea that he believed it okay to treat Neal as nothing but a tool to be summoned as needed, when Jones knows he wouldn't have stood it coming from anyone else, shed new light on the man Clinton knew as Agent Peter Burke.

Then he thought on it.

Letting the dust settle gave him time to rethink what his move should be. He still didn't think it right how Peter was treating Neal differently, but looking at the bigger picture, it's always been that way. Neal has always been different to the rest of them. For starters Neal's stays over at Peter's house, spends time with his wife, eats dinner with them on a regular basis. Peter treats Neal differently because he is different. Unlike him, Neal does need that constant reassurance, the pat on the head, the 'good boy' at the end of a job well done. Neal doesn't know the world doesn't revolve around him and whether it's positive or negative, Peter certainly reinforces that thinking with the special treatment.

So, he delivers his advice. Maybe in the end it isn't the speech he set out to give, but it is the right one. It's time for Peter to cut the apron strings. Neal has had plenty of positive reinforcement and pointers in the right direction, but he's reached the natural next stage of growing up – the part where he starts taking responsibility for himself.

Reflecting on the whole affair Clinton honestly doesn't know how Burke can be so brilliant in his job yet be blind to what's directly in front of him. He and Caffrey are a pair and Jones only hopes whatever it is that's come between them this time, Peter can exercise enough sense to come out of it on top for a change.


	25. The FBI do not negotiate with kidnappers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag for S1 episode 9 – Front Man.
> 
> Hughes has a talk with Neal.

 

5 minutes.

I'm five minutes early. That's good. I think that's good. Ah hell, I have no idea what's good, bad or ugly when it comes to Reese Hughes. The man's not only an FBI legend – retirement and back hello? – but completely unreadable. Or he is to me anyway. Peter always seems at ease with him, the stare doesn't bother him, I guess. Why the hell would he want to see  _me_  though? I've been behaving recently. Well except for leaving the scene without my anklet last night... but Peter already addressed that, the speech was a nice twist on the traditional 'when you grown-up' lecture always aimed my way. Maybe Hughes wants to add his two cents?

"Caffrey!"

Ah shit, the double finger point. I'm definitely in trouble.

"Hey, where's the fire." Peter grabs my arm as I, quite embarrassingly, run right into him.

"Peter not now." I pull away and make a second attempt to climb the stairs.

Running into Hughes office I know I'm making a complete idiot of myself, Peter knows it too because I can  _hear_  his smirk as I shut the door behind me. I really want to turn and run but I don't need to give Peter or anyone else the confirmation that I'm shit scared of their boss. And again, I've no idea why.

"Sit down, Caffrey." Hughes orders, facing the window, his back to me.

"Yes sir."

"Neal, you are not expendable."

"Of course." I squint into the sunlight shining in through the uncovered windows, I don't get it?

"Agent Rice made a deal with a kidnapper. She agreed to exchange you for a hostage without your knowledge." Hughes turns, looks at me expecting…  _something_.

"Does that mean it would have been okay if she told me first?" I smile, go for comedy.

Judging by the elongated frown, creasing his forehead into multiple lines, it's obviously not the  _something_  he's looking for.

"No." Hughes glares at me, like he can see into my brain. "The FBI do not negotiate with Kidnappers. Especially when it involves our own people."

I'm silent for several seconds. He's glaring at me again… I begin to repeat his last words, hoping to encourage more information. "Our own-" Then it hits.  _Shit_ , he means me. "Thank you, sir." I'm humbled. And trust me, that takes a lot.

We stare at each other, I get the picture and start to back away, heading for the door.

"And Caffrey?"

"Yes sir?" My hands grasp the handle, ready to bolt.

"I'm sure by now you've realised Peter gives a damn about you."

I feel the heat rise on my cheeks, but nod.

Hughes eye balls me once more before turning back to gaze out the window and the city beyond it. "Don't disappoint him."


	26. Mozzie & Peter reach an understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag to S3 episode 11 – Checkmate

"Why didn't you tell me?" Peter asks Neal outright, the cool wind blowing gently across the patio, reducing the healing burn of his bruised left eye.

It's the night following Keller's confession. El is home where she belongs and Neal is confined to their guest bedroom until he's satisfied he has all the answers.

"You wouldn't have believed me. It was my art on the sub. You were out for blood and I couldn't give up Mozzie." Neal repeats his plea for understanding again, not at all getting with the programme.

"You still could have come to me-"

"Really?" Neal launches, heading back inside with the wine glass Peter feels he should have never allowed him. "You accused me outright before even I knew it had been stolen! You made your mind up right there while the warehouse was burning. If you didn't believe me then, when I said I didn't do it, what the hell could I have said to change your mind afterwards?"

…

"We need to talk."

Mozzie doesn't both to ask Peter how he found the loft known as Monday or the reason for visiting. In silence he leads them through the side door, off the sidewalk and up a set of metal stairs into a vacant room. Vacant bar, judging by the large display of wine along one wall.  Mozzie simply looks up at him, pouring a very generous glass, tilting his head offering Peter his own. Peter shakes his head, hand waving him off politely.

"Suit, as much as I love the silent intimidation... words are going to be necessary."

Peter sighs and Mozzie picks up the next clue that this visit is not the run of the mill Suit encounter.

"Okay, well I'm assuming this is about Neal?" Mozzie hedges. "He's okay, isn't he? Keller admitted to stealing the treasure so Neal's-"

"Neal's fine." Peter quickly cuts him off. "And I'd like to keep him that way."

Mozzie pauses, looks straight through his tinted lenses and stares without blinking.

"Mozzie I know you've always looked out for Neal."

"We look out for each other."

"You've protected him." Peter sympathises. "As much as I worry about you two plotting together, I know you see the dangers he doesn't and I'm grateful."

"Grateful?"

"Without you I might never have had the chance to catch him."

"That's not exactly a compliment."

"Mozzie you care about Neal?"

"Of course."

"I do too. And if I'm going to keep him safe, I need you to stop working against me."

They eye each other. Mozzie looks away first.

"I never envisioned Keller going through you to get to us-"

Peter holds up his hand. "I'm not here to assign blame. That rests with Keller and nobody else, but it's the 'not thinking of the bigger picture' why I'm here." Peter relaxes, decides he will have that wine and helps himself to a glass, swirling it and tasting it before he speaks his next words.

"Stealing the treasure was stupid. You put Neal in danger. If you do anything like that again, I don't care how upset Neal is with me, I won't hesitate in taking you down."

Having said what he needed, Peter decides to make his own way out, but before he crosses the threshold he's stopped by the call of his name.

"I hear you, Peter. I can't promise anything, but I hear you."

It's as much as he can offer, he supposes. Mozzie isn't one to make empty promises or be unrealistic to the lure of desire.

"Good." Peter nods and steps out, navigating the stairs back into the alley.

Its not perfect by any means, but it's the best they have.


	27. Peter, Hughes & the Nazi treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag to S3 episode 5 – Scott Free, with foreshadowing of the whole treasure arc.

"I heard about the new Caffrey. He giving us any trouble?" Reese leads Peter into his study and shuts the door.

Peter sighs and sinks into the arm chair nestled in the corner. "He handed himself in this afternoon, made a deal for 18 months with a further suspended 2-year sentence. If he keeps his nose clean the kid will still have time to rebuild his life while he  _is_ still a kid."

"Sounds like a good result." Hughes eyes Peter from across the room. "So why are you round my house this late on a Friday?"

Peter sighs. "It's Neal."

"I gathered that Burke. What's he done now?"

"Nothing." Peter's quick to defend. "That I know of," he quickly retracts realising how crazy that sounds. "We're still looking for the Nazi treasure."

"You really believe Caffrey took it?"

Peter makes a face that's hard to interpret. "He's involved… I'm just not sure how far or if it was his choice."

Hughes studies his agent carefully.

"The day you brought his deal to me I knew we were in for a bumpy ride." He points to the drink's cabinet and pours two tumblers of scotch. "It should have been a long shot getting him out, let alone keeping him on." He hands one to Peter before taking a seat himself. "Despite my personal misgivings about Caffrey's ability to keep his nose clean, I saw you were determined. I also remember how you were when you were chasing him."

"I was committed." Peter nods, eyes down, lost in the warm amber clasped in his right hand.

"You were obsessed." Hughes corrects with a tight smirk, sipping his own drink.

"I may have been a little more -  _involved_  - than would normally be required."

"Peter the entire time I've known you I've never seen you take as much interest in a suspect as you did Caffrey. I considered taking you off his case several times."

"Why?" Peter demands, the question escaping before he can clamp his mouth shut.

"You weren't just taking steps to catch him, you were trying to protect him – you could have put the marshals on his tail several times, but you chose to run the ops yourself."

"I didn't want him getting shot by a trigger-happy rookie. The marshals aren't exactly the most patient when it comes to bringing their suspects in."

"And the conduct of the marshals is your concern how?"

Peter hears the rebuke loud and clear, but since he knows he wouldn't change a thing about how much he shared with the marshals he smartly keeps his mouth shut and looks away.

"You've acted like a parent to Caffrey from the beginning. Somewhere the lines blurred."

…

They drop into silence after that bombshell and Hughes waits him out. It's been a while since he's had the opportunity to make anyone sweat, and okay, it would have been more fun if it wasn't one of his own team, but the frill is still there. He does have to ask himself something though… Reese knows how Peter has gotten where he is, but when the hell did  _he_  start to give a damn about Neal Caffrey?

"I never intended things to get this messy." Peter breaks.

Reese breathes out a sigh, disturbing the tense quiet. "We never do."

"We?"

Looking up from his own contemplation of the drink in his hand, Reese sees the raised eyebrow and questioning smirk.

"Fine," he grouses. "But don't you go telling him Burke, or I will have your badge."

"You're probably the only person he's truly scared of," Peter succumbs to a proud smile. "Why would I want to ruin that?"

"He's scared of me?"

"Oh yeah."

Reese sits back, mules that over. "Good."

They finish their drinks in companionable stillness, neither one bringing up the subject of Nazi's or treasure again.


	28. A realisation and Impression in one!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tag to S3 episode 14 - Pulling Strings  
> Happy Birthday El :)

"Sorry I'm late." Neal smiles his widest smile at Peter, stepping through the open door, blue gift box clasped tightly in both hands. "Diana wouldn't let me leave until I'd finished my report."

"I look forward to reading it." Peter grins and takes his coat.

"Nah, you won't, but just try not to freak out over the bit with the knife, okay?" He speaks quiet and quick, eyeing the person he came to see over by the dining table.

"Knife?" Peter repeats.

Neal can feel Peter's wide-eyed glare boring into his back, but keeps moving forward, pretending not to hear the demand for more detail in his tone.

"Happy birthday Elizabeth." He greets her with a hug and let's her guide him into the kitchen, away from the already gathered crowd and more importantly, Peter.

"Oh Neal, it's beautiful," she exclaims removing the lid of the little blue box he'd passed her to reveal a silver bracelet.

"You brought my wife jewellery." Peter breaths down his ear, creeping up behind and leaning over his shoulder.

"Platonic jewellery." Neal defends, keeping very still, gaze fixed forward, letting Peter make the next move.

"What does that mean?"

"Means it's not a diamond ring suit." Mozzie mutters wryly, walking through the kitchen and helping himself to another glass of Merlot.

"It's impressive." An older man speaks up from over his other shoulder, also managing to sneak up on him without making a sound. "You must be Neal."

Bookended by the two taller men Neal isn't certain which way to turn, but despite his penchant to lose his patience quickly where he's concerned, Peter's never been one not to have his back.

"And you must be Elizabeth's Father." Neal returns in equal measure, turning and holding out his hand.

Looking the older man over he can't help but note the similarities in demeanour compared to Peter. Both had the clear desire to be the alpha male in the room. Both aimed to set others on edge to exert their authority. Neal has never bothered with posturing himself, often finding a nice smile worked just as well and was far more sophisticated.

In that vein, after shaking hands pleasantly he aims said smile at the smaller woman standing to their left, who Mozzie had been engaged in an enthused conversation about the moon landing until her curiosity clearly got the better of her.

"Pleased to meet you too, Mrs Mitchel."

He takes her hand in his, intending to be a gentleman, but clearly Elizabeth gets her tactile and take-charge demeanour from her mother because she knocks his hand out of the way, pulling him down to her height and giving him a big hug instead.

"Call me Joyce," she coos enthusiastically into his ear.

More than a little flustered by the unexpected welcome, it takes Neal a second or too after being released to notice Peter quietly laughing at his side.

"She's a strong woman." He comments shyly, meaning in more ways than one.

"Neal you're just in time for cake." Elizabeth cheers, preventing any further ribbing and waving everyone towards the kitchen, the bracelet twinkling on her wrist.

Neal waits for everyone to go ahead, but when he starts to follow the group a hand on his arm holds him back. "A knife, Neal?"

"Should have known you wouldn't let it go." He sighs, giving the ceiling a woeful look, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut and let Peter be as mad as hell tomorrow when he read it.

"Ah huh." Peter nods. "We'll pick up this conversation later." He releases his arm once Neal confirms his agreement, despite really not having a choice, but then once again as he turns to leave that hand still gripping his arm holds him back. "You sure you're alright?"

Neal automatically nods, but looking into brown eyes that always see right through him, he knows Peter deserves better. He mentioned it for a reason after all, even if it was a subconscious one.

"It was a little scary there for a while, but I handled it." He tries his smile on Peter. "Diana even let me cuff him." It bounces right off. "Look, I-"

"Peter! Come on, interrogate Neal later."

Peter makes a face, like he's ready to deny doing any such thing, but then suddenly remembers it's his wife's birthday and let's her have this one.

"To be continued." He eyes a nervous Neal, walking away.

Neal breaths a sigh of relief, taking the reprieve and using the time gained to fabricate a good story which, though will contain the truth, will also ensure there's nowhere for Peter to take it.

…

"Having fun?" Peter welcomes Neal to the patio, where he's been sitting for the past hour having found an escape from the glaring eyes of his father in law.

"Elizabeth's dad is an interesting man." Is all Neal can think to say.

"He's certainly impressed by you."

"Really?" Neal beams, remembering too late to school his reaction. "I mean, of course." He laughs it off, or tries.

By Peter's indulgent grin he knows he isn't fooled in the slightest. "Ah Neal," he sighs and turns serious. "I'm sorry about today."

Neal frowns. But one look at the document in his hand and all is clear.

"How on earth did you get that?"

"Had Diana email me a copy. Luckily she was still in the office."

Neal checks his watch. Last he saw Diana she'd been kept behind by Kramer, Peter hadn't been missing that long which meant…

"Stop over thinking, I'm sure it's nothing to do with you."

"You're lying." Neal's eyes narrow.

"I'm guessing. I don't know anything either. She said she'd talk to me tomorrow." Peter gives him a sympathetic look. "One stress at a time, please?"

Peter didn't often make requests, normally he ordered, so this must mean Kramer's visit was troubling him just as much. Knowing how it feels to have only questions and no answers, Neal agrees to let the subject drop for now.

"So, you were apologising for something?" Neal regains the twinkle in his eye and takes a seat.

"Don't get cocky." Peter sighs good naturally, a sure sign he knew he'd left himself open on this one.

"You have nothing to apologise for Peter. I was doing my job." Neal let out a matching sigh.

"Lending you to your ex-girlfriend?"

"Okay that one you should apologise for." The humiliation factor of being babysat by Diana and Jones was high, adding Sarah into that was cruel and unusually punishment, even for Peter. "You know I can take  _you_  treating me like I'm five years old, but please don't drag anyone else into doing the same, especially my ex-girlfriend. It's icky."

"Icky?" Peter breaks out in laughter.

Neal glares.

"Okay, okay." He holds both hands up in surrender. "I was desperate, if it wasn't for El's birthday we'd have worked the case together you know that."

"Yeah, I do. Maybe if you had been involved Sarah wouldn't have been held hostage and threatened with a knife."

"Or you." Peter speaks pointedly. "Next time let the armed agents handle the armed criminals."

Neal should have the good grace not to comment and just listen, but Peter's instruction on not rushing an armed suspect provokes a reaction, making it impossible to keep his mouth shut.

"But he went after  _Sara_ ," he stresses with all the intensity his overly blue eyes can muster. "Plus, I thought I could take him down."

"You thought wrong." Peter remains unmoved.

"I'm aware."

"You're just lucky Diana sounds as formidable as she looks, otherwise Bryan might not have stopped when he did."

"Believe me Peter, the image of that knife coming at me is still very much at the forefront of my mind."

A sudden silence drops between them, Neal clamping his mouth shut embarrassed by what he let slip and Peter feeling all sorts of helplessness, imagining how scary it must have been and guilt for not being there to prevent it.

"Here you both are!"

"Hey Elizabeth." Neal smiles brightly up at her.

"Sorry hon, we'll be in in a minute." He winks at her, knowing she'd understand.

El slips back inside blowing a silent kiss to her husband and running her hand through Neal's hair on her way past.

"We should head back in." Neal stands, straightening out his suit and tie.

Eyes focused downward, schooling his features so when he goes back inside there's no trace of the unsettling thoughts he's been having. It's because of this process Neal misses the moment Peter also stands and enters his personal space. So, he's taken by surprise by the warm hand grabbing his wrist and another using a thumb to raise his chin.

Looking up there's a split second where he recognises that look on Peter's face before arms wrap around him and holding tight rock him from side to side. The move is so familiar, so what he is used to from this unlikely friend, that Neal melts right into the comfort being freely offered. Not another word is spoken. There's no need. By now Neal knows Peter loves him, cares for him in a way no one has since he was a kid.

Slowly the image of the knife and thoughts of what damage it could have done, both to him and Sara, start to drift away.

"Neal stop messing around with the suit and get in here. We're going to play Pictionary and wine is at stake!"

Mozzie's yell, which manages to be heard through the closed window, is what finally breaks the moment and has them pulling apart. Without comment Neal moves first, Peter's hand still on his back as they walk into the house.

…

"That boy is rather interesting. Almost as interesting as his friend."

"Mozzie? He's definitely different. Neal's pretty level headed though." El smiles at her father.

"He and Peter are close."

It's not a question, so she leans over looking out the window where his gaze is focused. What she sees is Peter holding Neal tightly, moving them slightly from side to side. His gazed focused somewhere out over the garden, Neal's face pressed into the rough material of her mother's terrible sweater, both oblivious to the audience they are attracting. She knew something had been going on by the number of phone calls and then worried looks Peter had directed to his phone when he thought she wasn't looking. It was rare for them to have an uninterrupted weekend; the FBI not being known for its regular hours and she really does appreciate the effort he's put in to ensure her birthday went as smoothly as possible. She guesses she also owes Diana and Jones a massive thank you since they must have been the ones in charge this weekend.

Going back to her father's not question though… "Neal needs someone like Peter in his life as much as Peter needs someone like Neal."

"Co-dependency can become problematic, but it is treatable." Alan Mitchel diagnoses, as if they were participants in one of his studies.

Elizabeth chuckles. "Neal can be a little clingy with Peter, but then the anklet does take away a lot of his independence."

"I was talking about Peter."

She laughs out right now. "Peter isn't co-dependent." She turns on her father. "Not in a bad way. Peter needs to be needed and Neal needs someone to tell him what to do sometimes, because he really doesn't know. Peter prefers to be that someone because he knows he won't lead him down a less then healthy path."

It's at that moment Mozzie decides to hollow to the two outside and prove who the less than healthy path might be.

"They're good for each other." She states succinctly, not backing down.

"I taught you well." Her father smiles fondly, turning away from the window as the pair wander in. "You'd have been a credit to the profession."

"It helps with party planning more than you think." She takes a massive gulp of wine,  _as well as husband & CI handling_, but she keeps that gem to herself.

Before they can join the others her father stops her, losing all pretence of being unreadable he stands before her and gives her a look she's never seen on him before. "There are four main types of parent-child relationship. Only one is completely positive. The odds are stacked against us from the start." His eyes track back to the casually smiling pair now standing side by side in the family room, watching Mozzie's exuberant actions as he explains to her mother the rules of alcohol Pictionary. "It looks like you are both doing a good job."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted everyone? Me too lol. How's many is that? 7? I think it's 7. So… These were all hanging around on my one-drive doing nothing, some I may expand upon should the mood strike. I try to avoid posting anything shorter than 500 words but I hope sharing these little fics (and the odd longer one) was at least a little entertaining for you 😊. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a good day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope it was worth it ;)


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